Maybe the city has changed, or more I probably grew up, again.
is no longer the green hills and quiet place that is home to the contrary, in those areas the lack of his grandmother and uncles do you feel like a bloody scratch running from inside, sudden, unexpected and wrenching. It is no longer even during King Umberto, and the old house, where there are no more ties. Now gravity on the center, in the area of \u200b\u200bthe Roman Quarter, drawn like the needle of a compass from the North: places to walk and to live, places with people, places that make Paris so now I'm back home.
Maybe even the people that count. Indeed, perhaps no. Someone new with the dreamy eyes and a reality that pulls and tugs on the ground, some old with the usual gaffes and the heart a bit 'empty.
"It 's beautiful this jacket, you're right, I've already told you?"
"no, you could not have said it before because I bought it only a week ago. But thank you."
A past Friday to make a respectable young lady: I \u200b\u200bhave filed my nails and put on her socks, nail polish and heels, necklace and a new dress. Beautiful to me, because we have been harnessed to the tips of his ears to the bitter cold and biting. The aperitif made to work, but fun like party, made me smile. And dinner with old friends competed the work - along with the wine.
And the desire to share, bully, made me choose.
Tomorrow I see them again, these old friends. Back in Turin.
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