Then I wonder why one has to live, work, toil? Do you live to survive? Do you live for lack of alternatives, if not that of your own death?

I want a job, for my living, yes but every time I think about how to spend money I imagine using it for something I like, which I already do.

I’m imagining moments of perfect harmony, those moments in which, after a few months of work, I could think, to Bolo, of things like: ”A little trip? A trip to Turin, perhaps, to see Juve”… or similar things.

Well, I think I could be alone, do many things alone, that’s why I was wondering if love or freedom were the most important things.

Because everything requires sacrifices, and I’m noticing that you do many things well just… alone.

Each experience has a different value in solitude or in company, but it’s nice to find yourself friends.

Now that I walk in this city, many things seem useless to me, finished.

I see the lives of others who still cling to an almost adolescent life, to cling to a wishful thinking that they can stay young forever.

You know, I also don’t like the passing of time, inevitable, I too am afraid of dying, but I never thought of not maturing, refusing to grow up, to mature,

to live the illusion of being able to live in an eternal present.

Because there is always something that I don’t like in the present, I always hope that there will be better times in the future, even if it is never obvious.

In fact I think that in many ways it will be even worse, but I really refuse the thought of remaining like a child or teenager, it almost disgusts me.

That is, one cannot sacrifice maturity for youthful appearance, and also energies. It would be perfect to do like the elves, to remain youthful in appearance but have the wisdom and maturity of older people.

However, life is not made up only of these things, in the end, ephemeral. Life is not even the job, the class, the “social position”.

I see many people around me who give importance to these things, which are now irrelevant to me.

Why should I make fun of myself, after all? Will I ever be rich? Who knows, but I will certainly never be a doctor, I will never be a lawyer, a judge.

I went my separate ways, and here I am, your honor, in short.

And who is the judge? After all, it’s just me, and there aren’t always trials, after all.

You don’t have to judge, evaluate everything, and I don’t have to have myself in the dock every time something goes wrong.

But I know several things by now, people can’t understand, except me,

that every time I daydream Bolo, for example.

Ten years ago, a 23-year-old me, a me very similar to my current self in many ways, left Lamezia, ran away, he was tired.

Today’s myself is also tired, but he is patient, waits, studies, works, but his goal is always to get away.

But I’m happy, do you know why?

Because now it’s no longer escape, fear, no. Now getting away from here would be, will be… my simple duty, to save myself.

Because here few things are good, Ying and Yang – Bologna mostly white, and the black dot… Lamezia, mostly black and the white dot.

Where the only good thing is the laboratory, the theatre…but these things don’t have to be the only good thing, they have to be icing on the cake.

Don’t be the only good part of it.

And I want to save myself, I’m afraid of what I’m becoming and would become by staying here, I want to stay away from my parents’ house, I want to be alone.

I’d rather spend money on a rental in Bologna than get to 40 with mine again.

I have to save myself, from myself, from what is hurting me, going to Bolo is not a whim, it’s a duty towards me, because by now I am the only one who can do something for my happiness, and I only know that it was be there, live another life.