The junction 
In the district of this small, foreign, fascist city, only in the architectural style, of course, there is only one road, bordered by two lanes of traffic. On the left side there is a dilapidated school, two huge concrete cubes connected by a long corridor and illuminated glass. Inside, take music lessons, evening for kids, activities and joyful life. Every Thursday accompany my daughter to class and today is Thursday. We are greeted by 'teacher, a young woman of thirty-year-old former obese, with the signs of his victory against fat on the face, always smiling, with that naive and reassuring, a cross between a Ci-Ellina and collegial. His manners are instinctively polite, a real mangiabambini! Chat with her compliments. We need to give importance to his hard work, if not justified as the thirty euro asking in class! At the bottom are a sensitive person, which always takes away the embarrassment, try to fix the consciousness of their own and others' dreams and sleep peacefully. Everything around is in order and clean. The books of music on the piano, the instruments on the desk and the stereo in place. It also very hot, because the radiators were left on for the children. Everything is clear here, everything is absolutely perfect. I leave the classroom. In my pocket I have a heap of candy. Complacent myself, some are doing the right thing, just be sure of a good mother, I go out into the street. On the sidewalk in front of a small bar with the neon sign: the "Club of the Palm." The street lights illuminate the entrance. While I'm waiting for my daughter to come out from school, I decided to enter this bar. I am attracted like a magnet. Inside a man in his fifties sitting at the table, despite the smoking ban, peeled, with grim face and arrogant. It reminds me a bit 'one of my ex-boyfriend, was arrested, he was a RB. From what I understand the bartender gives the orders to the owner. The bartender, a young, perhaps thirty, wearing a pair of spectacles blacks. Strange, I think, with all this sun? I look around the bar there is an attempt to set up Christmas in one corner on the ground with a red aluminum foil on a bad cake and two bottles of sparkling wine. All sprinkled with fake snow, instead of decorating, dirty. I ask for a latte, even if at this late hour it gives me a bit 'of sick. Whispered the young, fat, bartender, one-eyed, asks me how I want it. "What?", "Coffee," he says, "clearly the coffee." The joke is enough and go and sit at a table. Enter two men in their fifties, both in green overalls. There must be some factory around here and maybe this is her after work, I gather, trying to mask the discomfort caused the bartender that I did not take away his glasses off. I ordered two vodka. At this hour? I think. Tonight they will do with your family? The bastards! The bartender asks him if one euro and fifty or two. Respond almost in unison, "but heck of two, is not it?". He takes the glasses, I think Dick for vodka, and fills them to the brim. Enter another man, about forty, well dressed, in dark jacket and jeans, and calls himself a coffee. He sees me and makes a face. I answer with a smile, time to decide on and nod your head. I approach the counter and ask the bartender the key to the bathroom. The man in his forties follow me ... I'll be back, satisfied, without looking at anyone, I add to the account and leave a chocolate bar. In my pocket I have a nice stash of banknotes. Pleased with myself, some are doing the right thing, just be sure of a good bitch, get out into the street. Way in the middle of the deserted street, it is very cold and put his hands in his pocket ... the sweets and money!.
galleggia 
