Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Frank Iodice

hi s father, al so a photographer, others he had col lected s ince hi s transfer. After having worked twenty years in consul t ing agencies, he became a special i st in bank trading. By the t ime he started deal ing wi th Morel and the emi rates, on the other hand, he was dedicat ing himsel f to a few niches in the market , most ly onl ine. He could, wi th hi s hobby, as he cal led i t , earn mi l l ions in seconds, in the batt ing of an eyelash, but he could al so lose them. “Whi le I close my eyes, l ike thi s,” he said, “I could lose a thousand euros.” And al l the tens ion accumulated in front of the moni tor for ten, twelve hours a day would be released every t ime he met someone, l ike now poor Morel , who, between one rant and another on subjects he had absolutely no interest in, tr ied to glean some informat ion. “ The European market ,” Ciepiela cont inued, “was l ike one of those l i tt le Swi ss towns, a carefree fami ly was rowing on the lake, thei r ki tty s leeping in a basket , the kids al l exci ted playing games, not a s ingle leaf moving on the shore, everything was green and surrounded by a certain magical atmosphere unt i l , guess what came along , not one of those l i tt le f i shes the happy fami ly usual ly caught , but an enormous shark that swal lowed al l of them! And you know what the name of that shark was?” “No,” Morel answered, bored.

118