“Engines!” The launch director shouted to the pilot. Like an automaton, I carry out the maneuvers I learned during the months of training. I reach the open, windy hatch… “Go!”
I feel myself falling, with no grip to stop that suffocating situation. Crazy seconds. Infinite.
Suddenly, I feel myself being held back, the speed decreases. I look up: the majestic and reassuring white disc of the open parachute appears. The deafening roar from moments before transforms, in an instant, into silence and freedom. I feel like I’m in another dimension. I begin to distinguish the colors, becoming clearer and more vibrant. Other parachutes silently accompany me, far away. The higher ones are immersed in turquoise, while the lower ones look like white balloons getting lost among the thousand shades of green fields below.
I feel proud: at last, I’ve experienced firsthand the sensations and emotions that Tullio Crali expressed in his masterpiece of 1939, ‘Before the Parachute Opens’.