6:50 a.m., wake up.
I open one eye while through the other I’m dreaming that are still 2:00 in the morning so I could sleep a few more hours. To make the dream a bit more real, I postpone the harmy melody of other precious ten minutes and then of another ten. Now it’s late.
Without realizing it, I materialized myself in the bathroom where the long process of morning toilet begins.
My name is Aria and since some months I have been employed as hostess of a tobacco’s multinational company, therefore: uniform, hairstyle and makeup should be flawless. Nothing more difficult and complex after moving here in Milan I have lost any art ‘s related instrument and my hair is always like those of the spot Garnier, that with the Model in prison, the one with the song of Electric Guest.
Got a decent result, only after hummed in my head at least fifty times the spot in question, I catch a packet of biscuits to breackfast outside my home and, once outside, I run. Here in Milan, in fact, you cannot walk, you have to run. On those rare occasions when I dared to walk through the city’s center, nose up, to watch the eccentric blend of old buildings and opprobrium of the reconstruction, several freackouting bicycles on the sidewalks have tried to kill me, due to lack of bicycle paths (about 17 meters per 1000 inhabitants), as well as runners in suits ready to pass the baton to each other.
I fly on the subway and I stay there for about half an hour. I look at the map drawn on the top of the coach, so as not to go down at the wrong stop, but I find myself distracted by a Chinese girl singing, with a microphone support, stereos and portable speakers, Laura Pausini and I improvise myself as a music’s critic, “mmm, I must say that she is good ! But the metallic echo is a peaty, it does not make her justice”
Lesson n. 1 – Do not exclude do be a street artist for a future job.
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