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Following in the footsteps of what Bartle wrote, I've been searching for partners for ages to launch a project that, without modesty, I would define as visionary. A unique wellness center, a spa-prot to be clear. Just think about it: imagine a place where you can express yourself freely under every organic manifestation of your being, where you can rediscover your lost drive; allow yourself to be pampered through wellness paths that include preparatory belly massages, cold air on the kidneys, plum drinks, and yogurt baths. With instructors who will guide you step by step, teaching you the ancient Tibetan technique of stimulus listening and pre- and post-flow breathing control; kind ladies raised on potatoes and mussels always ready to change the atmosphere on request. Hydro-protective tubs where you can gently let go, perhaps accompanied by your sweet and booming half, to enjoy exotic fragrances together and dream about peat bogs, stagnant and malarial lands. If you are interested, please contact me privately. I am looking for investors and serious people who are eager to get involved.

At my uncle Giorgio's funeral, with the whole room packed with people. I've been leaning against the doorframe for two hours, and for a few minutes now I'm feeling a certain work in progress. I don't know, maybe it was the genuine sorrow, or the smell of gladioli and chrysanthemums, or the cold milk. The fact is I don't feel calm at all, and being cautious, I don't budge an inch. By chance, an elderly family friend walks by and his wallet slips out of his pocket, falling onto the carpet right at my feet. I didn't think for a moment to pick it up, and yet I should have. The rest is history.

Oh dear Odradek! How are you? The environment is very far from my strings, but it's a pleasure to read you.

Unlucky character, drugs have halved the potential of this talented guitarist with great songwriting (just check out the Hendrix covers on YouTube). This album feels a notch below Fields of Fire from '85, which I prefer because it's more joyful and free; however, I go crazy for guitars with tons of chorus and delay, the quintessential eighties sound that you hear in the boss's records and the more down-to-earth Mellencamp, so I'm not an objective judge. In any case, I would give this album five stars out of affection; I care too much for the minor characters to be impartial. After all, we’re talking about the second guitar of that particular group. Ciao lao, bella recentia.

oh soulman, sorry for not replying to your countercomment on the review of Ryley Walker (what an album, by the way!) but I haven't been on deb since then. D'Angelo is downloading, I'll let you know. Everything good on your end? The standings scream remuntada and fifth consecutive scudetto with a phenomenal Dybala.

But nobody reads Deleuze's texts on cinema anymore, really nobody?

my problem now is time, I can’t listen to more than four records a month. This kid hit the mark big time. A job that is tradition, it’s true, but what’s wrong with that? Nice to read you again psycho, goodbye

Dear:**

Come on, this isn't Michael Jackson, it's James Iha from the Smashing Pumpkins.

The album: I'm expecting a mess, because the 2000s taught us that after two albums, bands inevitably go off the rails. But I want to believe in it, and I will listen.