Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

A Perfect Idiot

“Yes, I know, I know, let ’s skip the Southern Ital ian complaining routine! I’l l be the one to cal l you, in any case we won’t have anything else to discuss before Monday, I’ve already told you that I l ike you and have great confidence in you”—in fact, this he hadn’t told me. “Now you must get ready, no? To move down here” –down here meant Naples, but if he’d looked at the map, on the contrary it could have also meant Padua—”you have to tel l your fami ly, are you married?” “No! And I have neither chi ldren nor any relatives, I have to take care of something else, let me give you my number in case you need it.” Don Vito took it, put it in his pocket—he had those big pockets priests have, so big they can hold crucifixes and bibles, objects that don’t fit into the pockets of common people—and said, “Not that I care, but do you have enough money to get by unti l Monday?” Once I’d known a priest, I didn’t tel l Don Vito about it, this priest had blessed me and blessed my books, perhaps he thought they were sacred texts, instead they were novels by French authors that he didn’t even know, Sartre or Marcel Proust, now it wasn’t important to recal l the titles, only it seemed, with regard to the poor priest who was so intent on finding the time to help me, l ike I ought to think of the other one, of the blessing, and to l ink the two events, recognizing their spiritual ity. Who was

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