"Un ballo in maschera" and me
So today began with a weird story: a guy advising me to seek occasional sex, at 8am. It let me deeply shocked - because it seems that, if you push something inside the bottom of a woman, then what is on the top of his head will come out - i.e. she will forget of her obsessive love. It's not like that, I suppose. But instead of laughing I let myself being caught in the trap of obsession and pain and, albeit handling it decently, I could not be free until 12 o'clock. Then I took a bath, had some trickpeas pasta with fresh tomato sauce and get ready for an informational interview with an officer of the UK's Ministry of Finance. Very nice chat, the guy seemed a full-of-humour gangster and nearly offered me a job - I had fun. I also got some watercolor to add colour to my drawings. I felt like liberated, I had wished colours for so long. Art is the best expression of suffering and is therapeutic - this is also why (and for cathartic reasons, too) I went and watched Un Ballo ...
