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150 and not hear


Being Italian has never been a value, an honor or a disgrace. I have brown eyes like her hair (yes, they are definitely solid), I eat, sleep, breath, and I am Italian, that's all. I'm not Italian
sporadically when we win the World Cup, no less so when I see the prime minister does baucettete to Merkel. Simply I was born in a country that I love, full of underground cities, but without a vocation, a country that is the sum of a thousand neighborhoods, a country that knows if you go to the North of Germany and South Africa knows, a country where you can do anything and never get bored. A young country still, despite its 150 years, which has not yet learned to make the nation.
Being Italian, who hit in the ass.

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raining, even crying


After the great misfortunes it rains a lot, as if the world was crying his victims. I look at this unbroken curtain of water, and I think Japan. I avoided as much as possible pictures and videos after the plane breaks through the Twin Towers and the bodies that fall on deaf ears have settled in my imagination like the smile of my mother. A coward, yes, but also for respect. If I wander among the ruins of my house and destroyed my life I would not want to become the subject of a photo, even if he won the Pulitzer. Then I came across this , which seemed the most poignant and devastating human testimonies. And strength and desperation of men in the eyes of a dog.

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Pearls Before Swine


is the dominant feeling of the day. I put all the care, diligence, commitment, Calvinism and the grace that I have, and the result is for users having ringed jewelry fever.
But as I explained Giancarlo Livraghi, great student of the destructive power of stupidity, "if I speak and you do not understand the idiot I am." Urge therefore being advanced grunt. I enrolled immediately.

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Five daughters and a piece


I became a serial un'adottatrice. So, 46 \u200b\u200byears and still marked with the waist, I find myself having five children, all girls. The first is 83 years old, and I call Mom. The second almost three, and has a tail. At the third, who was thirteen, I made the first stroke in the womb of his mother. The fourth, who comes from afar and of honey and steel, has 22. The fifth has 30, and married in May. Then there is her, who is 37, and I've got half a trust.
all give me great Satisfaction, and I, that I wanted to be a first child elderly, with a little 'luck of risk too early to become a grandmother.

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power and act


Intercept the angel in this steel Skype rainy Sunday. I want a little surprise to my mother, I write, she likes pastries, guns and matured fruit. I'm on it, he says. And as we leave them both, each in its own corner of the city, I turn to the pharmacy and you live in pastry, I think my intention that bit turns into a riot of atoms, with the appearance of a tray of pastries.

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Barter and subsistence


Return to the touch and go between Camogli and San Rocco with a haul of orange and mandarin, sage, rosemary and some clump of violets. Precious and collected with my hands, knows rain, sun and sea uncertain. The divide, adding a touch of focaccia di Recco, and the return shall deliver a part in the Socia, who barter with freshly baked wheat bread, homemade jams and jellies bought for me at the Boqueria in Barcelona.
How beautiful and powerful the gift of food, which means I want you to live. And plunge his fingers in his face and leaves the bag of bread, thinking that this food will not only know the source, but also the address.

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Reading


's official: these are months that I can not finish a book that is one. I have three initiatives on the table and at least ten on the shelf of books to read. Books, flowers and dogs are my passion that I can remember, even after the chocolate has arrived. I loved the smell of the books before you even know how to read, I watched my parents and absorbed through the pages as custodians of an esoteric knowledge (something that happens to me today when I read in Cyrillic). Optimistic by nature, I wonder about this unexplained abstention early Alzheimer's, implosion or intellectual laziness?
Then I realize that they are so absorbed by my own, stories, and those around me, the stories the paper aside.
But I dream at night, when they finish those books that leave you orphaned, exhausted and changed. And I hope you come again in my life Useppe, and Ariane and Solal, and travelers to Bowles, and the lost souls of Mason, and Adso of Melk, and perfumes Suskind, clown and full of opinions, and Buddenbrooks, and Narcissus and Goldmund and Donna Prassede and all those that do not remember the name that kept me company during the day and awake at night.

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Tomorrow


If tomorrow morning when you wake up the influence he abandoned me Unnamable without taking hostage unless it pours, in short, if all goes as it should do the walk in the park of Portofino. How to be in the mountains, but the sea. Who wants to pick oranges, lemons and mandarins of the freezer and fill the belly of cake, eat the Ligurian fish with potatoes, olives and tomatoes Mirin San Rocco. And who wants to see that zompetta Wish rocks and paths and nameable eyes when looking at the sea and return liquid velvet, as when after having looked at last saw me.

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Say it with flowers


return home while the gates are lowered. I can barely buy the coffee capsules, and Wish, more worldly than me, it maintains a tasting area for its cookie ritual. The flower kiosk is closing, and I have no cash. The florist, another fan of Wish, stops for a cuddle and I found two coins in his pocket that barter on the fly with a white rose on the size of a cabbage. The port all'Innominabile, which alternates between influence and Ipad phone. E 'tired, and the Roman accent is more pronounced, "that you comprata'r six flower?" "Not for me, is for you." "Ah." Here
there. Ironclad logical, unassailable for dialectic, and then in front of flower ar not know what to say.

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White


Petulia I ask what is the dominant color of his new house. White, he says, perhaps too much. Then I see it, and I am enchanted by this white house as a blackboard on which to write every day. I admire her, she and her house, which belongs to it and it looks like, still full of boxes and already full of light and laughter, enthusiasm and weariness, to throw things and things to buy.
And we play with the white color and tell stories.

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Milan by night


No, not that of the nightlife. What I see out at midnight with Wish, which puzzled me wagging his tail stock to the nearest pharmacy on duty for seizures influenza nameable. Paradoxically, I enjoy it, this walk unexpectedly, and greet the outward and return the street sweepers that confetti and butts piled up on the roadside. Lent arrives, they seem to say that they know heaps off holiday passed and penance that is. This year at Easter, which falls on the day of my birthday, I want to prepare myself, and maybe born again before making the dog I have a life to spend.

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Disintermediation


will be the crisis, will Italiot inventiveness, but in Milan I see more often. Vans and APEC are bearing goods from the producer to the end user with clear benefits for all. The receipt is often optional, but some have their good cash register with plenty of ATMs. And if a friend has his pusher of fresh fish and other vegetables, I throw myself on hedonism. It so happens that I was healthy as a speaker, in defiance of common decency and temperature, I have a leather mini-dress in the middle of the street. Interesting dialogue.
Yesterday, however, are falling victim to a Neapolitan florist on wheels, from which I buy freesias and ranunculus. Prices are those of my usual supplier, only that for each article gives me 50 (yes, fifty-quan-ta, five tens) of branches. And after an hour of clearing house echoes of this poignant scent of white flowers, which can not attract the insects, the lure of color stun them with the promise of a flavor.

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listen to music with eyes

university, one of those beautiful houses where students just happen to go and live (or only to students who seem so beautiful, mah?), There was this music that kept exit window of the building opposite. Classic stuff, played for hours. came from a room furnished in modern style and a bit 'minimal, in which stood a white stone staircase from the steps in beech and without railing, which probably rose to a loft. the building was one of those palaces of the late eighteenth century neoclassical stucco cornices, then the inside there apt nothing but gave me a good feeling.

to stay put, to study the table on the veranda, you ended up easily peek into the window well to touch them. after a while 'I am used to anonymous movements of that room and I began to understand things. music, for example, mica did not go out every day and every hour. in the morning when the shutters were put together and the summer heat came in less, not never happened to hear while, You are not wrong, during the week, at sunset, the concert accompanied you weak at least for a couple of hours.

it took me a few months to see who lives there, who will exercise all those days, those in front of that window even did gymnastics, who will leave around clothes that gave him the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving been abandoned along the difficult road to the bed Night falls spirits.

I finally understood but I have never made and never have spoken. I always thought I was interested more the image I had built, rather than its actual version.

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Vacation Destinations of the other


I have no children and no shell, so the ski always catches me by surprise. He leaves behind a thin city, with the largest parks, streets quieter and more supermarkets empty. I love this dress rehearsal of the city in summer, and I thank those who leave an empty seat to follow the snow, the sun or the arts.
My week tends to be white washed, I mean give me flowers, walks without a leash and movements round the corners without haste. And with the Unmentionable which returns tonight for my holiday will be perfect.

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In my evening stroll I follow the scent trails of Wish, ending with her in Via Cerva. It was so close to the house where I grew up, this street so narrow and ancient, and Milan, to be the destination of my first outings alone. I looked at the windows of shops that today are almost all changed, only where the shoemaker bought leather strings for bracelets remained in place. And as I look around thinking that I know where I am, I realize that I have no idea where I'm going.
Everything changes around me, only I continue to look like, without a goal autumn leaf dancing in the wind. And what I love, my terrible freedom.

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Light of March


This light that tastes of spring makes me want a white shirt dried in the sun, which smacks of air and fabric softener. It's warm skin and hair on the face and mild wind and ran barefoot on the grass and daisies, and somersaults. And to work under a magnolia, with my knees and Vaietto Wish by my side.
What luxury and nature.

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struggles


consider fundamental well-being of the brain and support the daily production of endorphins through the constant and continuous release of beneficial substances: chocolate, sugar and carbohydrates in the first place. Sin the digestive system when consumed in a pound of chatter over the weekend I added the tortellini with cream and raspberry cream decorative integration of the bunet and cookies with Nutella, has entered into a strike.
So now, whenever I feel like something sweet to me a glass of water. I have more than two liters, not tears, and it's just time for snack. I have to ask whether the zeppole of St. Joseph are also boiled, as well as fries.

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emerging professions


The daily walk with Wish me is opening up new perspectives. Work, I mean. I'm lost in front of a window when a gentle hand beats me on the shoulder. It belongs to a woman elegant, with a long history written on a proud and beautiful face. He explains that he wants to fear but also that Wish had a stroke on his part. Heartfelt thank you and I run. Then, as I wander among other temptations are approached by a lady who hands me a business card. Her best friend has a beautiful male, if I tried a boyfriend for her, if he wants to send a photo. And then cuddles, hugs and compliments, which escorted us home.
I just have to teach her to do the autograph, and then I become in the agent's Wish.

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Now please explain how can you not fall for a man who sends you an email saying the train, among other things, which are equipped a natural elegance, "which won an unlikely clothes that you wear often." I think it is a nice way to say that my new sweater with the reindeer do not like.
What then, in effect ...

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The surprises of fate


There are days when your lucky stars you can almost touching it, and others where you think it's going to take a ride. Then there are the days when you think it's going to get around and find that instead it was just hidden surprise you. Like today, when a cascade of cards fit into a perfect day, without even moving things and jokes from the Socia split in two, an unexpected lunch and a walk in the park with my inscrutable family. I look at myself from outside, reflected in a window, while I come home from a torn smile, and I almost jump on a tram to give a kiss to everyone, including the driver.

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Just click


According to my mother, the Yellow Pages are the new frontier of marketing. He asks me if I have already booked the ad for our company, and I explain that the world has changed, and that I and Socia we are defining the content of the site and considering a blog. I see puzzled, and summarize by saying that we plan to use the Internet to compiuter she stands for - so the case, as the past participle to do with hints of r at the end. She nodded enthusiastically, do well, he says, you know that the daughter of this has found a job in compiuter? And he began his overview of knowledge in compiuter, in addition to work, they found his girlfriend home for the holidays or the recipe for pot roast.
Moreover, if there were in the world, it is not called the World Wide Web

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praise of slowness and far-sightedness Presbyopia


I have this conviction that I can sentence me alone and with retroactive effect. So, returning home late charge as a donkey, the heavier weight is the memory of other falls like this, but infinite past, when there were only waiting for haste and anxiety, and moodiness. This evening I Wish welcome and the Unspeakable, which collects the shopping bags and my pieces, spare me in the kitchen and disappears. You calmly, smiling at me. I take it literally, and moving like a sloth recompose myself and my surroundings. And my sigh of relief celebrates it with a cloth that smells of laundry, a glass of wine and a dinner for a king.

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's official, I can not see up close. From a distance, on the other hand, my vision was unaffected by hawk. But it made me feel a sense of the years that gently settles on my shoulders is not the view of the vision.
heard stories of broken love, desperate love, love without love, and before the ending is revealed to me I can see clearly unfolding plot and horizon, as the bottom at dawn when the sea is calm. And in any history of pain or happiness regained always read a piece of my history. What has been and what could have been, as if life were not enough and I had even a spare.