A shower of stars

We have reached our usual location. Our friends celebrate with wine the arrival. We hear howls of joy, it's time to celebrate the mess unravel the meat, wine and garlic delicacy, potatoes and bread soaked in the sauce. HUUMMM! In the end, nothing better to cuddle more the stomach than a digestive, a tin-tan-tun liquor. The night promises. The voices rehearse the first warm Christmas songs, encouraged by body heat and the friends gathering. There are still a few hours before midnight. We decided to stretch your legs with a short walk to aid digestion, which is just the pretext for review with known and lesser-known persons who invite us to drink more and to eat a sweet snack , homely made, the best there is, not those frozen stuffs from the supermarket. They insist, if there is something that we should never do is deny what they offer you at least here on the island, is an unprecedented lack of education not do so. I already feel my head spinning. The conversation is good, but we have to go. There are only a few minutes to the end of the year and if we are not alert, there is still a smart ass who will try to take our place. We hear the whistle of the small pyrotechnic that are posted on the balconies close to where we are. Anticipation heats moods. It is the nervous prelude that consumes us. Children require a noise in the count. Missing 3 minutes, two, and one ... FUUUUMMM. Screaming sirens of cruise ships announce loudly the midnight. The champagne corks jump. The rockets whizz through the skies of the island. The stars are obscured by balls of multicolored lights that sprout like mushrooms. People laugh and clap at the same time, new sounds and new shades illuminate the darkness. The moment perpetuates itself until expectably we are invaded by a vibration, noisy cannons that seem to echo all at the same time announcing the end. The sky is filled with gray smoke. It's the old year that ends and the new year of 2012 that begins. Welcome! The dawn of a new era begins quietly. One can still see the sleepwalkers of last year going back to their homes targeting the comforting bed. It looks like a ghost town, where we hear only the good mornings of some few passers-averse to parties and the early morning noise of the wind that sweeps the garbage of the deserted streets. A refreshed day dawns, I hope we can survive until the next year.