At the end of today are not going to run.
You are a coward.
was too cold.
Bah ... Rocky was running in the snow.
Fuck you're right. Well, then I'll go tomorrow.
Yes, I believe ...
Shame. To prove that I'm a word, we will face the University at 9.
Okay. See you tomorrow.
Ok, hello old.
Wake up at 8: one hour, now, indecent to me.
English breakfast. Tea and biscuits dietary remnants of who knows what my mother's diet.
The radio is a hit Gaber: the church is renewed. It makes me
laugh.
Invitation to waste time, here we must harness to go to attack the asphalt.
Completone heavy, in true Scandinavian reindeer wool, fur collar and shoes for runners, with holes in them strictly because of the many kilometers.
It's early.
are sensational in advance.
The university is just around the house. I get a
messaggino-ino-ino on the phone. My pops told me that part at this moment from his native village, that is an unknown number of poles and Dutch yards from the place agreed for the appointment.
Not bad.
I can do a walk nearby, waiting for the time is right to point to the temple of knowledge.
And here I am, in the vast plain, in pursuit of the Sayan and undermining the sewer rats hidden in the ditches.
Not content with this successful hunt though, I decide to head for the Alps, running into the river Padus, today's Po, upstream in the direction of Monte Viso.
And here I am in the province of Cuneo, Saluzzo.
Despite the stalactites of sweat down my chin, I decided to continue my mad rush. So there was still time before the appointment.
Without a plausible reason I found myself face to face with a blade that I was going to explain his argument wet.
Dodge for a nap.
The Andes is a place poorly attended.
So go, go! Down to the sultry shores of the Rio Parana, he returned to Montevideo, it avoids the famous goalkeeper Fabian Hector Carini, former Juventus and Inter (you will never have my place of goalkeeper in the football team! Fighettino lousy gambler!), And arrives, after some hundred kilometers, in Rio de Janeiro.
It is a carnival and hot as hell!
Everyone laughs! All joking!
Only this dancer, who has very little of women, no joke!
Sorry, I must escape! Even if you have a surprise for me ... Hello, hello, do not worry, I'll think of all men to thee! Addiooo ...
Among the bossa nova of Antonio Carlos Jobim and the thrash metal of Sepultura, I do not want suddenly aware of being late for the date?
Yes, damn it.
And here I am on my way back home. Among
arid steppes, deserts on fire, I do farts yak in the Himalayas and Sherpas who take me with snowballs.
Samarkand.
crossroads between East and West.
Hundreds of merchants, potters lanaiuoli and leading trade negotiations.
Roberto Vecchioni, stopped at an intersection to find the way to San Siro, he points to the road.
Having walked the Red Square in Moscow, having forded the Danube and have passed the border and customs of different states, I'm back in Italy.
Basta. It is time to make the final sprint. From Tolmezzo in Modena. Three hundred and sixty kilometers.
I make a phone call to my mate that I was already waiting.
I arrive in the square in front of the physics faculty.
of my shoes remained only ashes. At the height of Mestre had caught fire.
My legs were covered with a blanket of mud, dust and sand. Seems to be wearing pants the last spring-summer collection of designer stoned any poison for cockroaches. My
completone was intact. Adhered perfectly to my body and it was a black translucent Tutone made him look like a skin.
Hey, sbrillone! You're late for a quarter of an hour.
Eh, I've been around a long time. Do not say
bullshit. Clothes back here, do not pretend to be tired.
But no, the ... I did a walk around here, for the path. You know not?
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