Almost two weeks ago, it was Sunday evening, I found myself at the kitchen table with my father and my mother. In his hand he wore a pair of papers in which he spoke of an "International Inglese schools with locations around the world. The costs were circled with a pen, and there were two little insight into offices in New York and San Francisco. We spent a couple of hours discussing, basically trying to answer questions like "What I want to be?" But also "It 's right to travel the world with other people's money?", "E' right to waive bid interesting and practical for an uncertain and imprecise? "," Arzignano is a good place to live? ".
depends. The answer remains the same. It depends.
But, then, depends on what? Who is dependent?
A rational, which I am on the Wednesday evening, sitting comfortably on an ergonomic chair in front of the computer, and within my reach, there are infinite number of files and information and the machine that I share with my sister, parked below, it seems I can take anywhere reply: "It depends on me .
But at the end of the discussion, there was a question that scared me, and that is to say: "I will remain locked forever in Arzignano?".
Here, where once, they say, were all campaigns. I've seen a few, but I did the last generation of Arzignano che abbia avuto una casa sull'albero. Poi un giorno sono arrivarono le ruspe e spianaro il tutto per far costruire un palazzo. In quel palazzo venne ad abitare Luca: il miglior portiere che la mia piccola squadra di sfigati avesse mai avuto. Giocavamo su un pezzo di terra brulla e irregolare, in pendenza, con due porte di legno con reti da pesca. Di fianco un giorno ci misero un palazzo. In quel palazzo, al piano terra, venne ad abitare "Giani il belo": un omino magro dagli occhi storti e pochi denti che era riuscito a crearsi un piccolo orto proprio a fianco del nostro campo. Ogni tanto la palla finiva di là e noi entravamo di nascosto a riprenderla, con la fifa matta che lui ci beccasse. Poi però, un giorno, hanno tolto le porte. Chissà se troveranno space for another building.
Everything is jam, everything is a factor K (shed), everything is politics, and the worst. Get the car and on the main road is a succession of towns and industrial zones seamlessly. Metropolis a kind of long, or maybe the outskirts of cities, from Verona to Mestre. There is no more space is all occupied.
Not only that: there is no solution for identity. We Veneto, we are the Veneto. So what?
makes you want to go. Fuck: Buenos Aires, San Francisco, Paris and Bombay.
I think that what you call home is a good place to go. Then I think I want to choose. Agreed: the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving control Complete our destiny is an illusion, but I do not want to have control. I want to have responsibility. The fact that we can not resolve the flaws in the world with our own strength alone does not justify not trying. From Monday, January 14
work Editrice Millennium, I'll be an intern until the end of February and then, perhaps, they should hire me. I have very flexible schedules and work with people who know how ironic, a rarity in these parts. I correct articles, writing articles, I take care of books and try to carve out my own work by organizing "cultural events". Will hear about.
My grandson will live in my house for a while 'and is big and beautiful. Eat a lot, shit as a result, little cries and dorme a momenti alterni. Sapesse scrivere sarebbe la copia sputata di suo zio. Ma ha tutto il tempo per diventare meno egocentrico.
Il governo Prodi cade non per colpa di manifestazioni di piazza, di riforme impopolari o attentati. Ma perchè hanno arrestato la moglie di Mastella. O perchè il Papa non è potuto andare a parlare all'Università di Roma. La CEI ci ricorda che non è il caso di uscire dal Medioevo. Cuffaro non si dimette.
Io mi incazzo, mi indigno e torno a casa più tardi di mio padre. Alessio Danilo è nel passeggino, o nella culla.
Quando ce l'ho in braccio lo dondolo un po', accenno un paio di passi e gli canto un tango.
