How To Verifiy Licese Vocational Nurse Licese

Metropolis

large surplus in the dusty street in the dilapidated neighborhood
metropolitan
left in this swamp and dense
men excluded from the reserve for tomorrow
destined to a life without illusions and
senz'ipotesi of no hope.
surplus in the metro district:
garbage, rotting fruit
excrement of dogs, treated (and clothes)
much better than many men.
all contemplate with disgust
stunned by the ferocity and dall'insensatezza
in which force us sadists.

surplus in the metro district
blood on the pavement is still hot,

a homosexual was tortured by a new technological fascism and private sectors.
guards are dominating the satellite dishes
useless drugged brain.
marginalized, alienated and discriminated against by stealth
the distressed look,
meditating on the near beating
that certainly will not be long in coming. I do

courage, I walk
still rotting in the metro district, surrounded by apartment blocks

detached and far removed from any context, with people terrified of different


hostages to cynical media that invite them to close the walls,
delegating their very own existence
in educational policy to delinquency
bets and security cameras as guns.

Segregated in the ivory towers
compacted concrete as a powerful, deep hatred

will be invited by news funded by the Freemasons. Then a messiah
clear how a skull
will fulfill their dream of death, to those seeking

money when they go to the grocery
or after Sunday mass.

Depressed I finally reach the port where
cold atomic submarines,
patients waiting for the command,
a gesture by the spiritual leader. Then
quest'insperato sunset
leave room to dream, the glow extended and final

the mighty mushroom cloud
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .... A civilization
fierce but trembling
expects unconsciously to sink,
to be rebuilt from the ground up:
bankruptcy of our titanic delirium
swim hopes of social reconstruction.

Vincent D'Ascanio, unpublished 2010.

The Replacements Henti

Meeting with Andrea (the story of a failed urban)

not easily forget the story of Andrea, in fact I remember with clarity the day we met. I just finished my first day of wandering, the time spent at regular intervals, punctuated by calls abroad and individuals that emerged from the low marshes of my sordid past. A sunny afternoon Comrade George called me ordering him to keep it free, because this time
needed my help ... "Beautiful, we need today, Franco is making a move ..."
"A move," I replied, "damn you, but I have to study ... "
" Do not make me laugh, you know that you do not need anything. Will pick the two ... "
" Okay ... "I answered the phone while lowered in a state of trance.

George was like clockwork, and Franco van parked in front of the rickety door of my condominium. They handed me a beer em'indicarono the back of the van, because there were some furniture to maintain, "especially in the fuck of bends," as George explained in a friendly Savoy. He obeyed with beer in their hands, then opened the door and found myself in front of the emblematic figure of Andrea. This came immediately and thanked me happy, because the City had finally decided to allocate public housing. Could well leave the Circle Amendola, an old section of the party where he had lived thanks to some good-hearted fellow.
"Damn, that section he was not comfortable, but better benches in Piazza del ..." He uttered this sentence with his disarming smile, as if living on the benches of the Piazza del Carmine was like sleeping in a hostel where you are not the all at ease. The appearance of good
Andrea struck me immediately, as it struck me that among the bony fingers clutched a soggy cigarette, but he continued undaunted to smoke. In addition to physical, facial features and clothing was strikingly similar to Toto, but much uglier, and with a look that reveals a dramatic reduction to be beaten dog. His clothing was the clothing of the classic "last", a special uniform that despite obvious differences are similar in some respects. The jacket dirty, the shoes with the tip upward for too much use, the collar of his shirt dirty and dilapidated, the sweater and ripped holes were indisputable indicators of belonging to a class, now become my adopted family ...

The journey to get to the "home" was a devastating interstellar travel, in fact we had to use all our resources in order to overcome those heavy cardboard furniture. Every so often the poor Andrea was brutally crushed by a table, raped by a chair, humiliated by a library, slapped on a cot. The hairpin turns were our crucifixion, the sudden braking of the red-hot iron in our meat skewered, and the rude gesture that launched George augment our despair. Franco was driving like a maniac, and was not at all concerned about our conditions, similar to those of two young hubs, armor of good will have to deal with a devastating tropical storm. From time to time Andrea stretched his skinny hand, and I take it back from that mass of wood and cardboard that it intended to reduce it to mush miserable throbbing. He tried to tell me thank you, or so it seemed, because his language was inevitably cut off from fear, and fear of a new jolt. I gave her kicks and punches to the front sheet, screaming, shouting, shook his fist in the rearview mirror, stage unnecessary faces. Franco then I looked through the mirror with his cold eyes, leaned slightly to the right arm and reached out his middle finger. Meanwhile vehemently trod on the brake pedal, and almost "nailing" the goal ... we found ourselves unexpectedly

When I came down from almost half did not lose his balance, and I had to put George in the same instant he cursed. Andrea, however, rushed out of the van crashing into the asphalt, and we had lift almost lifeless. It was a small bird, weighing up to fifty pounds, and nose that did nothing but accentuate its character from volatile undernourished. As soon as he was standing there with his eyes looked mad, Franco then offered him a cigarette, but he proudly replied that "he had his." That fear, and wonder ... He had the "Four Nations" without the filter, the same who once smoked my poor uncle murdered by a terrible cancer ... Cigarettes Andrea produced a nauseating smell that seemed to come from the most dangerous refineries of the Gulf of Cagliari , so I had to get away and only then became aware of the neighborhood where we were ... I do not mean to be overly dramatic, but this afternoon we looked like happened in some other region of the earth, perhaps the poorest in Latin America or Africa. The neighborhood was the important achievement of illogical choices of some local governments, which had decided to barricaded portion of the population (of course, the poorest) in a sort of ghetto, which held sway in the popular buildings claims, in which there was the shred of a pharmacy, a supermarket, a hell of asylum, in which there was neither a school, let alone a bus, or one of those tragic suburban churches that put him in a moody black ...

When I turned to my right I saw a huge rectangular square of concrete, in which some boys amused themselves to train a mighty pit bul through a tire hanging from a swing. The animal jumped and bit his suspension with the air force while the boys, who wore steel jackets "Dainese" and wraparound glasses, hit him with some blows, commenting enthusiastically jumps poor animal crazy now. The square was strewn with debris, broken glass, stones, shards of glass glinting in the sun, and the whole presided over some totally charred motorcycles, which were proudly displayed as a stylized sculptures of futuristic ... Meanwhile, the surrounding buildings came from the original soundtrack. A family had decided to start a bloody rebellion home, and the noise seemed that this fight was no holds barred. The wife seemed to have the upper hand over a man, possibly drunk or disrupted by some other self-destructive substance. Despite the whole neighborhood was full of the anger home, the boys who beat the "pit" there were careful, moreover, the episode was only for their daily routine. They continued to laugh and joke with each other as if nothing had happened and while they watched stunned, my attention was caught by the impressive show that human shoots on balconies of those horrible buildings.

at a balcony completely moved nonchalantly chipped a girl who wore a towel on his head, skinny, pale as a vampire in a crisis of results. He held a cigarette between his fingers, and watered the flowers with a very special posture: hands on hips, cigarette in mouth hours, looked like a man in the act of urinating. For a few seconds I was enchanted by it, but she turned suddenly and while my eyes were projected to other horizons seemed to me to see her touching the so-called "jewels". Only then, including the situation, so my eyes were able to run into another show at all pleasant. Downstairs a rather fat woman and had supported its disproportionate legs on the ledge of the balcony, and as if nothing was intent to shorten the nails. As I watched this further representation of the total lack of femininity, I could not help but notice the people who entered and exited from the building it was in the apartment of Andrea: indifferent passing of authentic walking corpses, carried by a strong catalyst to places and people certainly absurd. Skinny, emaciated skin, eyes sunken in the orbits away, leaned forward, lips or lips that disappeared, venereal disease or visceral who lord it over their bodies as dangerous cleavers ready to break inconsistent on their necks. Gait tired, showed the same body positioning fate of certain death, sooner or later they would be caught with no way out. I was particularly struck by a factor: these people (and the word citizen is used in case) did not seem to have any age, younger people seemed older, and older people almost young. However it was impossible to pinpoint their age, because it could prove a thirty sixty years, while a sessant'enne, on account of a teenage hair or some sparkling earrings, could prove less. In short, these were people who did not belong more to the time or the seasons.

"lore, come on," said George, "so that we go away from this place, damn it!" I
posizionai at the van, and waited for me to pass the first mobile Franco. It was an old table packed with dust, which could carry with enormous effort on the stairs. The entrance hall of the palace looked like a faithful representation of Dante's circle: the walls were peeling, mold had decided to establish uncontested estates on the walls, a penetrating smell of urine will upset the nostrils gelandoti blood, and then of course papers, some condoms , a towel and some blood-stained syringes, however, remain a constant. While the posavo foothold on a little girl stood before me. I stopped to recover from fatigue and amazement, and this looked at me with sad eyes. In one hand he held a small blue bag containing some kind of junk, while the other was a small doll anointed, similar to those that used to be "winning" in the roaring of the drums Dixan. I let her go, and if I had not had that mass of wood in his hands I would certainly stroked her hair, maybe I would post a question, maybe I tried a trick to make her smile. I simply shuffling a "hello" and she just replied with a smile, ready to catch insects in the garden full of debris, filth and slush, with its pale green eyes and his hands from Scandinavian fairy ...

A plan, two floors, three floors and Andrea finally here, that wait for me in the position of coffee before the door, a huge door, armored enormous and powerful, the classic door that awaits you at the end of the sky. This, in fact, was not a real door, but a sort of shield against interstellar atomic attacks, that perhaps only to the sound of TNT ogliastrino could cross. Caught my breath before the improbable figure of Andrea, and as I pointed to the bowed gigantic object.
"Andre, and this door ... Mamma mia, it's huge ... "
" He put the City, "he said satisfied," the apartment has been conquered before. Look at that, see? They tried to break into the gun ... "The verb" conquered "meant that the property was already occupied. I do not know why that would use military jargon, perhaps he was influenced by the overpowering presence of the door. Andrea pointed out to me after a few seconds three deep infossature not far from the lock, apparently caused by a firearm. Andrea looked at with concern, but he returned my frightened eyes with joy. Had lost some teeth, but that smile was like a sunset in the bay, and I could not help but feel an unreasonable sense of peace and tranquility, as if those bruises were a commonly accepted element, as the screams continued to come from 'apartment next ... Yes, in fact, had finally managed to find accommodation, and I could not ruin "his" time with my concerns but, in retrospect, I would do well to worry further.

in prison, while waiting for his turn in the lunchroom, I tried to pass the time looking through the paper. After laughing for the usual antics of local politicians spent the crime, in which I immediately recognized the photo of Andrew, who was lying on a sidewalk stained with blood. His skull had been crushed by a revolver, and the reporter asked, innocently, what they might want from a man who had never harmed anyone, and especially did not have anything. The reporter was not in possession of certain key elements, as Andrea "something" did. The apartment where he lived was now free, and that the killers had more of everything ... The war between the poor is more grim, with even the most silent ...

Vincent M. D'Ascanio. Unpublished 2009.

Cubefield Andy's Life

Ballad of corrupt politicians

Political saints, politicians redone,
political leaguers, accents Maximalists
moderate politicians, usually recycled
expert swindlers, impostors and jugglers!
Beautiful magazines, lying in interviews, luxurious
the girth, MARKET hope
double in the bone, caught up to the neck,
the prosecution at his heels, the judge is on vacation ...
sexually greedy, hate the people, anxious about
competitions, placing grandchildren
say they know everything, and then they know nothing,
support the strings, the conscience is in your shoes!

tapping and tie, heroes in the turnaround,
celebrating the best, then touch the Maronites,
for honesty is always a good time, then arrangements to treason,
speak of integrity, but the immunity bless!
Hookers for breakfast, cocaine, party and denunciation,
made up and dressed, at the expense of all parties,
seem to professors, but they are scoundrels,
election period has run, you smile a priori ...
die fugitives, then speak of it as holy,
session are stoned is not a question of procurement,
principles of the Parliament, without interception effect,
s'aumenteranno retirement, already decided in committee!

are any, but with accents reformist
-loving nation, but the scent of secession,
the dollar in the mind and heart to the highest bidder,
balls under his chin, his ass to take the wind ...
When they become elders, become bastards, the teacher is
Cossiga, dazed but the front line, has run remade
Berlusconi, Veltroni is the holy
the Communists have exploded, they find the island's famous

... If it was a bit 'to me , the King would return, delinquent
there is one, all the rest are anyone, but we must bear
, such as my aunt,
all this stuff is running high democracy!

Vincent M. D'Ascanio. "Write anything", in.

What Vasodex Contains

The river inside me. The story of Tony

Within us we have a river that flows

without our knowledge,

this river is sometimes violent, sometimes calm

and it is difficult to know who inadvertently.

The river carries many elements,

is the memories of my childhood dreams

is when I'm old,

brings my past and future lives.

I'm like a fisherman who tries

valuable as the river port,

text

patient sitting on its banks

and silent to hear his voice.

VM D'Ascanio. "Steps", 2004.

I-catcher Console-web Monitors

By now the technology at the service of profit has replaced the simple manual work, in our time the contradictory Luddites finally regaining all his reasons.

Alan 87 Końcówka Mocy

Cappai.

As we begin to talk of unlikely subjects, we found ourselves before the prison Buoncammino turned the place for a long time in my warm home. The prison is situated on one of the hills overlooking the city, where you can enjoy an excellent view. On the left is the ancient Roman amphitheater, imperturbable reminder of a time now lost. Extends before most of my beautiful city, the port to get up to the Laguna of Santa Gilla, in which from time to time is given to the headlines the body of some "last" definitely fallen from grace. In the distance you can see the mighty mountain range of the Seven Brothers whose contours, particularly clear in the mornings, taking spectral appearance, a faded colors, a frame of Monet. On top, the hill surrounded by trees and historic buildings, dominated by the emblematic structure "jail", which shows the appearance of a lovely nineteenth-century palace, with its round shapes and aggrazziate. Few elements cause the displeasure of his "guests" of small cells, lack of air, promiscuity, and violence of various kinds Abut. In this prison there is a high suicide rate, are full of petty thieves, the neighborhood, people with AIDS, HIV, drug users, immigrants from every nation and color, mentally ill, viral and skin. In short, this little place we last of the earth we have chosen an ideal vacation spot forced! At the time

University not know these situations, but during that clear morning in October I had the opportunity to hear a special dialogue, which lit a lamp in the darkness of my mind darkened. I heard a voice that came from the big rock on the right of prison ... A woman, who barely kept the stragonfie shopping bags, it seemed the muse of the bards of the more unfortunate.
"Antò , Antò" He screamed with the same enthusiasm as a jew who saw the promised land.
"Anto, Antoniccu are Mom, let me see my son ... "

" Lord, what is it, mom knows Cappai de Tony?
" EIA, which I call him Anthony, please ..."
" Yes sir, we had already call him ..."
held the silence for a few minutes while I waited for Valerie and Maurice that the boy decided to be alive. Those events were surprising to us, we felt like children in front of a sarabande of cakes and sweets.

"Oh, but to me it's me"

She moved for the first time, like a statue that comes to life at the wax museum.

"Son, my beautiful ... How are you? "

" Eh, but tottu goods, and the back of my father still straight? "

" Yes, he is already past, so I salute him, and Zia Assunta Rosa. Play some 'beautiful. .. "
" What happened? "

" No, and Anto, who has not already happened. But I must say that my father has to sell the land of Uncle Amerigo, and had always wanted to ask you the same opinion ... "
" Of course they are, you already know that I never change your mind, I. Tell him to sell it to my father, and forget about it, and Uncle Amerigo comprategli a beautiful plaque with a picture just a little more beautiful, that in what did you put paride unu maccu limpiu , your aunt ... "
" or Antò Okay, put on your sweater, look at the review tomorrow, hello beautiful mother. "
" Hello or mA, and a saludamì tottusu ... "

We obviously did not miss a single sentence of that original box. Then I could not imagine that one day soon, I personally met the elusive Tony. Detained meet the great scoundrels of every kind of deviance upset, sometimes without morality, lost in the thousand vicissitudes of daily living, or openly in the same prison. Tony, however, was not a villain, and was succeeded to maintain a degree of personal dignity, in places like this arduous undertaking, in which shame and brutality in s'accavallano
hectic ... I remember like it was yesterday (it was yesterday?) the day when I met him. During a quiet spring afternoon, when the wind was carrying pleasing fragrances daughters of the sea, a turkish thirst for vengeance had tried to stab me during a game of "moon mounts". Tony had immediately locked, and kicked him so powerful and breathtaking.
"I Won, I won, I'll asshole!" Panted the mustachioed opening their arms to simulate a huge circle.
"Go back to the Bosphorus, the turkish hell! "Answers him while they were taking him away, protected from the broad shoulders of my rescuer.
"Oh, boy, get it easy, otherwise you my ass I do ..." I said Tony, who kept a pack of cigarettes in his hand as if he had a bomb mototov ready to be hurled towards the wall.

said this short but vital phrase, Tony showed me his toothless smile from Venezuelan killer, meanwhile holding out his great hand. It was a "Maurri" feet tall and ninety pounds of muscle per cent wisely distributed on an outstanding physicist. Before being imprisoned his job was a mechanic, a legend in his field, he knew procure any piece of any car sacrosanct. It was like one of those Cuban mechanics who know how to fix those American cars that you can only see on Happy Days, led by Fonzie, Wells, or perhaps cursed by Jhonny slices ... On his imprisonment versions circulated contradictory and improbable, but one day he discovered that it was was arrested for a trivial "assault a police officer."
"I wanted to seize the car that bastard, but he is gone, eeeh! If he is gone ... "I said quietly one afternoon, as if I was saying that he had gone to buy a ribinetto to the sink in his house.
"Mom my, "I said," sometimes exaggerate their own. Once kidnapped me from Marbella because he did not review. Damn, my father did not kill me for a while ... You what car did you have? "
" A Porsche! "
" How is it that they wanted to seize? "
" I've been taking apart ... But it was not mine, oh, not be stupid! "
" Wow ... "I commented, trying to hide my dismay.

Tony was a heroin addict the last generation, fluid flowed through his veins and dangerous unknown, absolute mixtures, drugs that only selected professionals were able to prepare. His criminal record was long as the road to salvation, but still behaved like a gentleman, said "thank you", "please," always defended the weak, not only from ordinary bullying other prisoners, but also the brutality most treacherous of warders. In short, it was a sort of Fidel Castro's prison, but did not distinguish class and was unaware of any variant of Marxism-stamped so the poor as the rich, the powerful as the last of the earth. However the powerful beat with a smile, and this was enough to make the most sympathetic. All have value, but Tony confided in her, despite being a big man in the sense primary term, it was still a man ... One morning
m'apprestavo to clean the floor of our cell. The night before David had been busy, had eaten like a maniac and threw up all over with anger, throwing up his arms towards the full moon could be glimpsed through the grating of the cell. Have been three in the morning, at most four. Some servants and dragged him to the infirmary, so if you could call it, because he had also vomited blood. Some sketches I had sealed on the face, and scratched the toilet bowl while I wondered if the beloved cellmate was HIV positive or not. M'aveva recounted several episodes with the Nigerian Viale Elmas, and in addition was perfect harmony with Ratzinger on the issue of condoms. Granted, the clues were not reassuring, but I decided not to think about. The problems of every day was enough, I could not give a straight hypochondria ... In the meantime, some stubbornly resist fouling, but inappropriate as Sandro Bondi, the jailer on duty began to bang his club on the bars of the cell.

SDENG! SDENG! SDENG!

"Dickhead, Tony Capper was your friend, is not it?" He asked with his Sicilian accent.
"Yes, of course, what you want from him?"
"What do I want? Your friend is setting the account with the Big Boss, eh eh.

I looked at him as if I were watching an alien in learning vacation on earth.

"Hell does not give the reduction of sentence, the lawyers do not come here, you bastard!"
"What happened ... When?" I asked as I raised icredulo.
"Tonight, a beautiful overdose ... He laid out a horse fuck ... Serves them right! "
" Damn, "I said," go to get an enema! You need it, you see as you walk by ... "
" We, we, you look at how you talk, henchman ... There is more to defend your friend, remember all the time you'll be in here ... "

said that the subtle went to attend to some other gory affair.

I threw the broom in the toilet, I sat on the bed stained with blood and I ran my hand over his face. My mind went to that distant memory, when his mother called him and he responded by gratings, buried walls. Tony, damn you! Yet he was an expert of heroin, as he was able to happen ... A series of disturbing images passed through the antechamber of my consciousness. I thought of the warders, the Turks, at that damn Bonorva baker who wanted to tear him to pieces, a Sunni who had sworn that, in the name of Muhammad himself, to kill him. No, I do not know, only he possessed the key, and receiving carried as in Paradise of fools. I thought so at the prison, the lessons of criminal law, institution of punishment, the principle of rehabilitation, retribuzioniste theories, utilitarian, to the Constitution ... Then I thought the last of the land locked up in prisons, immigrants, transsexuals, prostitutes, the thieves of the neighborhood, and then to all those who decide to commit suicide, those who die of AIDS, those who are stabbed, strangled, raped, those who no one ever goes to find, those who await the passing of the days with calm resignation ... Then I thought, and thought, and thought again, and then, and then ... And then came David.
"What are you doing in the midst of this mess?" I asked with an expression of a ghost.
"Tony Capper died of an overdose last night."
"Ah, poor fellow! It was a good person ... Come on, give me a hand. "
David, with the shirts still stained with blood, grabbed the white sheet that had just placed on the cot. He asked me to help him to get closer to the grating, then tied a knot in the sheet to slide outside of the cell. He dragged the cot near the wall, then we went over almost panting. The other prisoners had the same idea of \u200b\u200bDavid, this was in fact a deeply rooted tradition, compassion is carefully monitored desperate among us. Dozens and dozens of white sheets waving in the sun for a light west wind, hailed the early release of our final and Tony Cappai.

Vincent D'Ascanio, unpublished, 2009.

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Manuelona transsexuals

Since I arrived I had not observed due attention to the place where I was. It was a modest local SG Street, where the prevailing roofed houses and rickety with obvious signs of mold on the walls. It was a neighborhood characterized by an unhealthy fascination, but the left: the houses were stacked next to each other and thresholds gave vertically on a narrow one-way street, where passing vehicles of all kinds and some "last" that, for every single step seemed to go in haste to a decisive appointment with death. The district
SG ruled the graffiti Cagliari, which moved overnight to dry dethrone dominant on the gray concrete structures. Distorted faces, prisoners smiling, eyes fitted with special antennas, declarations of love and social charges, deceptive whales were demanding justice: This scenario was intended to anyone naked path those streets with a bit of curiosity. Among the houses were opened, the sudden invisible passages, which flowed into squares to navigate s'esercitavano heroin addicts in the ritual of self systematically. With the arrival of night clubs come alive ambiguous, in which floated colorful characters whose gender is indefinite, but that of speaking and acting revealed a deep sensitivity, unearthly, not found in accelerating the world of light ...

At that time it was popular / an / a transsexual, known / y in the name of all Manuelona. During the whole of this week / a was a do employee of the Province of Cagliari, and held the use of protocols with the same enthusiasm as a Fabrizio Corona at a conference on the rule of law. Goggles falling on his nose, short hair, blue eyes, classic sweater gently resting on the mighty shoulders, was the stunt double for a Raul Bova apathetic slightly disheveled. Alienated, expecting a wait that stretched through the night to turn into a fever, and when it came, undressed of his clerical clothes to wear a provocative miniskirt, fishnet stockings for sexy, and a body within that exalted place in an specialized clinic in Brazil (to hide the curves during the hours of the protocol, he spoke of clever tricks ...)
Manuelona dancing like a possessed until two in the morning, then grabbed her purse as her pink lipstick cherry, rose to super SUV 3000, then lingered under the bridge Scaffa.
You could also meet under the overpass of 130.
was recognizable in the deep canyon of Columbus Avenue. You could discover
to lure some young students at the Cooperative Credit. You could surprise some entertainment
ancient Councillor of the Regional Council. His SUV
3000, noted in hot July night, resembled a gigantic penis metallic.

Manuelona ... How long ... I remember with a wealth of detail on the evening when I met her. I was lying lifeless on one of the sofas in the local M. For a change Valeria m'aveva humiliated, and Augustine had ruled that drunk at all costs. I was looking for some way to throw up, while my roommate harassed some waiter who laughed at him and his face horribly scarred. While trying to extricate himself from the situation quell'imbarazzante Manuelona I sat down beside him. Then I turned, and before me appeared two mammoth tits MADE IN BRAZIL. At first I was startled, because Manuelona decided to cuddle.
"Hello beautiful" he whispered with a masculine voice, "what you want to do?"
Co - what? "I said stammering," I feel like throwing up ... I must ... "
" How sick? "
completion of this strange dialogue Manuelona m'osservò better and began to laugh, then called her friend (or friend?) To tell her what happened. The two laughed together as if they were an annual commemoration of alcoholics, cocaine addicts. Sexual past that wave of enthusiasm, crossed his long legs and offered me a cigarette.
"My God, you're a kid ... how old are you?"
"Man, I'm not a child, I almost nineteen years!"
I apologized with the kindness that characterized it at every opportunity. He said he had the face of a boy of fifteen, and in fact was not wrong. Today beard and some scars remedied in prison have mitigated the effect, but in that period proved less years than I had in reality. After this misunderstanding Manuelona stood by me, for that night did not intend to get busy. Augustine tried to corrupt it in various ways and finally found an agreement for the next day at favorable rates, near the lagoon of S. Gilla. All spirited Augustine suggested to go to the bar to celebrate the "conquest", then I girded Manuelona life shaking his hips big parenthood. It was there, before the eyes of my insane roommate, who he described his life. He talked of the work to be registered, who despised with all my heart. He told me what had been difficult to accept that body rebels, and especially to what he told me it was difficult to accept others. His family had ruled, had three sisters who did not speak to him, his mother nearly died of grief, her father reminded her that a bullet shotgun was given to his brain.
"unpleasant situations at all, dear, but I could not imprison and deny myself to satisfy the desires of others ..." He proposed
this phrase with infinite pride, and he had good reason, damn him / her. However, the most interesting part of the speech came when he spoke of his clients. All decent people, for charity, lawyers, dentists, politicians, priests, Catholics and Pentecostals, Buddhists, vigilantes, unemployed persons and clowns of the circus.
"As a priest?" I asked bewildered, "is a life that will split the balls!"
"Oh yes, even priests ... Poor things, they too are men, as everyone has their needs. Then, of course, when they go on repeating the Parish Vatican diktat. They must do so by force, they tell me crying ... One of them has a strange habit, before each report begs me to confess and therefore absolve him of, otherwise the halyard is ... Amazing, is not it? "
Yes, it was incredible, but thanks to Valeria nothing could surprise me. I decided to give him a few questions about the politicians, maybe they had met someone famous ...
"Oh, yes," she said with dreamy eyes, "a regular customer was the Mayor of a big city of Sardinia. He told me that if I was his only m'avrebbe appointed assessor for productive activities, but had to be adjacent to our offices ... "
" And you have accepted? "
" Of course not, my body is for sale, but not To my mind ... Pluvio Thunderer "
" But, sorry, what part was this mayor? "
" One of those new, big ... Think big, was one of principal leaders ... I have always been a fascist, I could not humiliate me like this ... "
" How fascist? "exclaimed grabbing her by the arm," but if during the fascist people like you were persecuted, how can you be a fascist? "
" Guilt My grandfather, who was also great Fascist fetishist ... As a child m'ossessionò with stories about the great leader and twenty years. That dictator was just a big man, had lots of lovers, would be my ideal man ... "
" Your grandfather Fascist ... ... ... What a beautiful thing, "said Augustine in a state of trance.
"Yeah, it was the only one to Starmie after my next choice. My political belief is a strange emotional connection with my heart ... And then, is the inconsistency of our time ... The workers voted to right, the Northern League takes votes in Sardinia ... I mean, I do not feel out of place! "
"That's true," I said scratching his head.
"My God," said Augustine, "we are before a protocol transsexual who carries out the priests, reject the departments, should follow her tits and is fascist! You are the woman of my life, but what are your arguments? "
" Tomorrow you will know them one by one ... "
" I love you ... " Augustine concluded and quaff a strawberry vodka accompanied by a curious mix of antidepressants.
During one of endless afternoons in prison David handed me the Unione Sarda, adding a terse "I'm sorry." Initially I did not understand, then I saw his picture and recognized her. After all, was one of the few people who came to see me regularly, and sometimes brought me sweets which she did. Damn had stabbed to the heart, the organ that had dominated his whole life. Fourteen stab wounds and the barbed wire tied around the neck were not identified those responsible, and no one pulled my hair to do it.
Yes, Manuel, or Manuelona, \u200b\u200bran a double, triple, quadruple life, a life that had warmed in the sunlight, in which all respected him for his professionalism, and another in which a costume or mask, make-up ... Or maybe a costume or mask, trick when he was the light, and registered all those silly administrative documents. He devised the best way to conceal her breasts in Brazil, but could not hide for life, or at least until he was alive. The death had revealed the existence of another, the one worn during the night, when darkness protected her from the vulgarity and hypocrisy of this, that everybody indiscriminately hate ... When the time seems pass, when Valeria does not respond and no one wants to meet me, I climb on my vespa vagabond and sleepwalking through the city. E 'in those afternoons that go under the bridge "Scaffa" and spare a thought for Manuel, the eternal Manuelona, \u200b\u200bthe most consistent person I ever met.