” You are unable to split up even from your cat.”. That’s what my therapist told me, a million years ago now. And it was bloody true. Over time then luckily (luck is a figure of speech, I worked my butt off to put it in French) step by step some decent separation I made. At least from the cat yes, I have successfully separated. I’m proud of it.

Seriously, these days I’ve been thinking about how people split up.

Once upon a time I spent an ordinary petty bourgeois life in a quiet town in the province of Lazio. The “edges” I had diligently always followed them all: high school, graduation, work, marriage, children … Yet I had the clear feeling of surviving inside a castle, a bit like that of fairy tales, golden, reassuring, apparently perfect but in reality cold and dark.

I walked thoughtfully along via Sannio: first the covid now the war, it’s really a difficult period. Someone tries to think of something else, not feeling in the least represented by these incapable and warmongering politicians, having now lost the idea of ​​being able to affect the structure of society. Someone else is going through a bad depression because he risks losing the values ​​he had always believed in, now thinking he was only deluded, convincing himself that “they” were right, that human being is like that and there is no way to change it. Others are just scared of losing part of their wealth … “Hello, can you tell me where Via Sannio is?”