Fine day. In bed, under the covers. The computer supported legs to recreate that soft warmth battery still not hot enough to cause a problem. Sleep at the door and do elbows with the desire to give yourself a page long book started a few days.
But first, one last image flashed in my mind, to peep again upsetting thoughts the instant they are stealthily to rest on the ground, like feathers finally freed by a mysterious electromagnetic field which, for all day, kept them in midair.
A sudden flash, epileptic: a right-wing MEP, imposing and a little 'mother hen. Tinted glasses worn even on talk shows in prime time. It looks like one that has been known for a while 'on commercial networks of the premier. Other times, other hair, other brightly colored suits. To look good, perhaps, is her own. What aberration, some havoc, obscene spectacle, cacophony, horror: an old right with the imprinting of the red region of Italy.
We are in a royal hall, on holidays. White sofas everywhere. Regimental ties the knot loose, French perfumes are mixed into the nostrils to the bubbles of champagne. Strobe light of a thousand colors everywhere sodissime ass and busty, ill-concealed by thongs and bras with lace top edge. Anzianotti decrepit and tangled to support the effort are mixed in a cauldron of sweaty bodies, as in Dante's circle. Among these members can be seen even more fresh meat, sometimes a minor and lewd, ready to sell to the highest bidder.
There she is, in the middle. In his left hand a blue folder, from the back hard. The right hand resting on a giant wheel, the costs of colored numbers that flow, one after another decade, driven by powerful competitor of the day. Do not try any shame. Serve the master of the moment, for the sake of obeying. And this, he calls it love. The voiceover is shrill and takes almost by surprise the diners engaged in a wide variety of erotic games under the table. Of the white hands retire embarrassed from the open flap of a famous conductor TG4. Spotlights illuminate the faces to botox and many rubs his eyes, already wide open by the lethal mix of sleep, alcohol and cocaine.
play with us: Silvio Berlusconi. Tara tara tattatarata tattataratatarattatara tattataratatarattatattatatta.
Prime Minister wakes up from the usual lethargy by the cabinet, takes a few uncertain steps through the crowd that claps his hands up to spelarsele. Everyone in the front row, to support the master. He returns with huge smiles and wide gestures of greeting. The speech of the evening has just begun. Spin the wheel, guess the price and swallow a pill to enjoy the prize that has just won.
How sad. And now you explained it to me as I fall asleep?
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