Delmuga24

I enlighten you as much as I can.

My last name isn’t Delmastro, but “Marçon,” and I’ve already written one or two reviews here. And, uh, the previous nickname combined my first name Delle with the beginning of the last name plus the nickname of my then life partner who passed away during the SARS-CoV-19 pandemic.

I want to say the photo has nothing to do with my real appearance and I took it from one of my little nephews who is a fan of the Griffins.

An anecdote. I try to kill a little Vespa-hornet that entered on Thursday through a crack in the basement using all the smartest methods (even equipping myself with a tactical respirator mask), but I only manage to confine it to the attic. I dress properly, then go out and take a walk in the village. I find 3 little spheres in the park with the words: “Pangenoma,” Proxemics, and “Politics.” After that, I pocket them and take them home. Once arrived, I rinse them well and paint the first two with pink, ochre, and dark mauve nail polish, and nothing happens. I paint the third one in petrol blue and ochre and that Vespa that had infiltrated the basement to be renovated since yesterday faints and splats on the floor. I take a deep breath and, after passing the spheres under boiling water, repaint the first two with petrol blue and ochre nail polish. I wait for a cat’s pee (8 seconds) but nothing at all... 5, 10, 15 seconds and still nothing at first. The kitchen timer rings “about a cat’s pee” after and after I turned off the fire (and not the boil-over in the big pot) my gaze falls on the balcony of the third floor of the building next door, free from Epiphany until the 4th: the mysterious neighbors start chanting in chorus the opening of The Journalist by Myriam Mafai.

Dam-n, do I have hidden powers and didn’t even know it?