Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

A Perfect Idiot

several mi l l ion.” “I t ’s the stock cert i f icates I ’m interested in, I al ready told you, but we’re not going to pr int anything at al l wi thout the bananas and wi thout our Mel i .” ● Padua. Statistics Library. Don Vito would forever transform my conception of the ecclesiastical world, which had been compromised by people I met in my youth, people I’d have l iked to talk to him about. Whi le walking under the portico along Via Cesare Battisti , we spoke again of my work as a custodian, a phony job according to him, a kind of excuse to avoid serious work and wait instead. And it was true, what I was doing was waiting: waiting for day to come, for things to improve, for my wife to change—what was I waiting for? I myself didn’t real ly know anymore what I was real ly waiting for. I was seized by a fit of sneezing before we stepped inside. Don Vito looked at me, amused, I must have seemed as strange to him as he did to me. “Where are you from?” “From the south, I lost my parents when I was a

chi ld and ended up in a foster home.” “And why are you tel l ing me this?”

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