With reference to the now popular knowledge about contracts, rituals, clan, mafia and the like in my house (ie 'Rimini and neighboring hamlets, See also headlines in the local press today), I wonder bewildering:
-But how many times I'll 'a coffee' in a bar in Rivazzurra, place of meetings of clan-climax, having worked in Marebello for about fifteen years, elbow to elbow with a boss? But how much small-
organized crime avro 'cross at the corner of the street, at school, at this shop in the center?
-How many bars of soap I'll have 'bought without knowing I was going to fatten the Godfather?
- Perhaps the unease that this takes into city life, and turns into melancholy, is not such a nonsense 'individual?
Truth 'is a bit' I'm ashamed that my city 'is so small'.
E 'me for a no-place, ambiguous place where everything happens and nothing happens.
A small desert version of the Tartars in the Adriatic.
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