the 9.37 am on Friday morning and I'm late. I've got butterflies in my stomach and I'm sweating, but fortunately you do not see why the sweat, as it runs at high speed via Carulli, broke one of those tropical storms that is not so much as drops of water column. Within 30 seconds, in fact, are no longer recognizable as a human being and, at the corner of Corso Cavour, I am confused by a group of Japanese tourists for a fountain. From beneath their umbrellas Suzuki super-technological, make me your photos, browse the guides frantically looking for information on my history, and two of them I throw coins at him. Suddenly I was sneezing. The Japanese remain stunned for a moment - obviously, in Tokyo and Yokohama fountains do not cool - and then begin to emit a series of diphthongs in confusion unlikely that send a blind lady stops there at the traffic light to wait for the tone of the green. Except that I'm so full of apprehension for the appointment with my new dentist, I laughed.
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