Wednesday, 7 July 2010
It’s bloody hot now in the flat, it looks like a hot Italian summer night. When you keep turning in the bed because it’s simply too hot, and that’s just an excuse not to sleep. From the open window someone is speaking loudly, but all inside is quiet, just the rest is noise.
Back in time, I used to spend summers with my grandparents when the schools were closed in this big house in a North West village near Turin, with 19th Century factories still up and running, in a period, late 80s, when there was abundance, people were carefree and didn’t care about global warming, gasoline’s price or mortgages.