Tags: stories
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On the beach. I lay on the bed and lift the predyll that makes me shadow my face. I welcome and open the book. After a while I feel that his gaze has rested on me. I continue to read but his insistence covered by silence, it intrigues me. I lower the book and turn to...
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Good morning, ma'am, how are you? I wrote a lot of things at this time when you didn't see me here and I did more. I found on my way a Lovely Editor who would love more to be called the Red Buddha, appreciable effort to be recognized for what he thinks he is, but...
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History of revenge Then my lady, tell me what you think, that I suspiciously parallel, I find myself with the same problem at the same tooth exactly as 4 years ago, when I was in very critical conditions already on my own, pericular and lost, and let's say, without identity. That's nothing.
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The commercial representative, that is the Divine Fashion is madness and if it were a person would be locked up in an isolation cell because he would have sent in analysis one after the other all psychiatrist analysts, psychologists, self-power, motivationists, friends of Angels/solecuore love/mangia-prega-ama, jogi and directors of correctional institutes that he could have met. Fashion does not respect the...
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Good morning good morning, here I am, look I allowed to bring you a small cake, here, I wrapped it in orange and green veline paper, and I bought a brown rhyme spake, and I support it here, you know, I made a little autumn packaging, I thought that you might like, I made you the...
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Stories for incomprehensible madness. Once upon a time there was a king, indeed no... Once upon a time there was a birch that was docile and quiet to grow while his agile stem rose towards the sky. Suddenly it was struck by a terrible storm, which had overflowed a river and hail and water and land and...
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a love story (not mine) 2500 are the jokes requested by Corriere della Sera to participate in the Christmas story contest. I did it as an exercise, because it is not easy to reduce everything to 2500 words. This is the result. I'm at the park where I walk fast with my dancers sinking into the frozen leaves...
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He spills and I'll let myself get. I look at it in the eyes, but then I close them, that strong and too many are my emotions, I do not know what end they would make me do, and we roll under the table, as if we were 15 years old and instead I lived at least 100 lives myself, that I could count and tell.it is extraordinary...
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and I gladly climbed to his house, I willingly gave up the coat in the entrance, I gladly followed him as he walks with his safe step and while he goes touches the things that are his, (the drawer, a quick look at the cards, collects a newspaper sitting in the chair, touches the table) and docile I followed him that...
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you know my women, as it is long the night when you face it after months of winter frosts. You know how long it is and how much it is worth every moment you spend with him, in two, in the dark, the world out and nothing else important. and so it was: after so many words that had emptied my head, after so many questions and...
