This year will hardly be able to go to Batik. To say, tomorrow is a documentary that I should meet to propose an initiative to do next year, but I can not because Jason has Italian lessons and my mother did not want to return to Marsciano when it's dark and raining. Saturday then I have to go to Rome for the national demonstration units road against the bill on prostitution Carfagna. Sunday? Maybe Sunday I'll try to make a jump. I do not remember what is scheduled for Sunday.
Last year I went to a meeting with Pupi Ronconi. It was much better looking than I expected. I was especially dazzled by Umberto Orsini, I can not deny it. Christ, how old is Umberto Orsini? Behold, I looked on Wikipedia, there n'ha 74, last year 73. A stun charm. Physical dry and compact, random gestures like looking at the clock which tell a story of discipline of body and taste of the exhibition at the same time retain something of adolescence, a lot to tell, without exaggeration, but obviously with a skill and Wikipedia physical dependence. I wanted to go in the rest of my life with Umberto Orsini, after that meeting. I know, this retrospective jealousy for her sister Kessler would have poisoned my life, but it was a price that seemed acceptable to be paid. Instead, when the parterre of the Round Table is gone, I stayed, so as not to make an insulting Peppe. And I have not regretted it anyway, because I saw a piece of Medea, who had turned Ronconi for Rai, who played with Mariangela Melato Cassandra, and even that was quite an experience limit (I can not remember that I was going through the fourth the fifth month of pregnancy and the hormonal profile of my body must have been quite tumultuous.)
The encounter with Pippo Delbono was very strong last year.
ok, 'there will be other occasions.
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