Tonight I won’t talk about me, but about you.
Don’t start to strut, now. I don’t want to talk about you, people, who post lots of wonderful words, sentences, thoughts.
You make me feel better, for a few seconds I forget the state I’m in.
I didn’t expect to cause such un uproar. Here in Mantova we say: “You wanted this bycicle? Now you have to ride it”. I’d looooooooove to ride it, but I can only do it metaphorically.
I’d like to talk about the people who write to me privately.
I like to call them “the Nameless”, not because they write to me anonimously, but because I’d never reveal you their names, not even under torture.
I like the intimacy growing among us, even if for a short time.
Among them are friends, acquaintances, perfect strangers, but they all have in common their discretion, their desire not to “show off”.
If one day I wanted to write a book, I wouldn’t hesistate for a second. I would collect these writings.
The title? Guess…