"Posso aiutarla?"
" Si grazie, sono tre settimane che aspetto questo libro...."
" Ah no, ancora non è arrivato"
Momento di silenzio... Che faccio? in fondo la commessa vestita di rosso sembra davvero dispiaciuta...
" La ringrazio e buona giornata" ...
La commessa è salva.
Vado per uscire, non ho tempo di guardarmi intorno ma non mi sfugge l'ultima fila di libri alla mia sinistra...
Adesso qualcuno mi deve spiegare come mai Andrea De Carlo still manages to post something in this country!
Someone should explain who was the primary teacher who taught him or tried to teach him how to write!
Someone should really tell how many copies sold this man! And if you sell that no one has noticed the banal and boring failure of imagination of this man? Nobody has noticed that can not write? I mean, is not a detail that may escape.
I say, since we landed with (we, as people of poor readers) that the genius of Moccia (which itself can say are in the colors of a flower that grows stubborn
the edge of a paved road, I live in the sky, when the sunset tinged with orange, always different, always himself. ) could not fuck De Carlo?
Maybe so young shop assistant in red should not crap stack entry time and would have to order the book by Amartya Sen who looks for weeks!
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