I was coming home just now. The new house, without giving more details than that, is very, very close to where the boss of bosses did this afternoon, his last meeting. Unfortunately I missed the chance to see him live for the too much accalcatasi crowd in the square. Perhaps only a vague image in passing on the big screen, it rained on him and her, macroscopic white confetti, a symbol of a new-found purity of heart and mind, in this pre-election Lenten carnival that preceded a breath 's official entry in the spring. To tell the truth, I wanted to see and hear better. At this point in history, curiosity prevails over disgust. But I had time to receive from him just a kiss of farewell to old uncle of the second degree. Of those you see once a year, and when you are under eighteen, you stretch a piece of fifty thousand stealthily. I wonder why he wanted so much to deviate from this role in which would have seen more than good. It would have been Uncle Bountiful most of Italy. More than fifty thousand a grandson.
However, I lied. It is true that by now my curiosity overrides disgust. Finding myself in the midst of the crowd and having read the T-shirt of a passer-by a phrase like "Better a day chiavatore Luxuria a life", I could not try it, and with renewed vehemence, that my dear old loathing of all time, loving companion of all the salons on television when I turned our eyes in recent years. I did not know what to do, I walked upstream to try to reach home, but I was not quite a gesture against the view of the square and surrounding streets filled with unparalleled respect in order to those seen during the latest left-hand demonstrations. I had an orange scarf that did not seem quite representative of my dissent. I regret, in that moment, to have given my red keffiyeh in high school, now abandoned for years, my brother. I echoed in my head the epic (for me, then) "Seems like yesterday we where sixteen / We were the rebels of the rebel scene" of the Cranberries, I wanted to go back to the times when it fell perfectly at the humming. Then I met two young demonstrators with keffiyeh glamorous of all the colors and the big chess that is so fashionable now and I could not even regret not having my own. As would be worth, in this primordial chaos, out of sight of Athena and of any other God In extremis I thought I could run extremely contemptuous glances at all the faces and bodies sbandieranti where I came. Practically, given the influx of people, all the time I had to keep the facial muscles contract in a grimace between the Acrobatic reproach and retching, disgust severe than those that annihilate a looking hesitant. It was not difficult, as the glorious "Thank God ..." was repeated ad libitum without spreading in tone, without presage any order, ruling it was legible and Finance through the lip of the large groups of ultras have gathered for the event from all over Italy. Then a guy with the veneer black blouse and put me hand on my shoulder and gave me a pat, at some point. I looked a bit 'of concern. Are you tired, eh? he asked, his face cunning of those who is pleased to have guessed it. I tried to keep my carefully studied that withering look, but then I sadly shook my head and I have directed more strongly at home, taking care to deliberately hurt anyone pass me a shot, but pretending to be in error, in the rush confused and very real, charge despite the lost battle. I had to look autistic.
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