Franco Fanigliulo
A me mi piace vivere alle grande

As a reviver of delicate follies, I find myself inclined to ramble about the one who, besides the mandatory toothbrush, only packed a very soft pillow in his suitcase. First of all, I would invite you to reflect on the lightness of such a luggage, useful for avoiding both physical fatigue and the arduous legacy of the past. Then, since we're at it, let's have a second reflection: regarding the matter of the pillow, tell me if it isn't the most appropriate tool to rest one's head and, consequently, the most suitable for daydreaming. Then, knowing that the world is full of toothless poets, the choice of a toothbrush also completely makes sense to me. But, coming to our maestro, he was first a sailor (that is, engine degreaser in the hold) and later a lot of other things. Lastly, or almost lastly, he became a farmer, living in a very isolated little house with only Giovanna as his neighbor, a woman who "wore her fifty years like flowers". For a moment then, just a mere moment, he became, somehow, a singer achieving even fleeting success. "I like living big walking around in my underwear in fairy tales, and then you come and tell me that now you want to die for love", something like that. He had a beautiful name: Fanigliulo and he colored my early youth with sweet, surreal grace. I adopted that light baggage, adding only the dangling light bulb of the attic where I liked to retreat. That's how it happens, at a certain point, you enter a room and there’s a bulb... in another room, and the bulbs are two, then three, then four, and then you end up seeing perfectly by yourself, like cats. Anyway, today, every time I get to work, I perform my ritual. I turn on the supercomputer in the animation room and, with the help of the mixer and two amazing speakers, I blast Franco at a killer volume. And while I wait for the old ladies and prepare the materials for the morning activities, I start to dance, but what am I saying dance, what I do is soar very high, happy as a clam. Only this morning, the first old lady arrived early. And after looking at the images on the screen, she smiled and said: "You know Marco, that young man looks like you". I stopped the dance and blew her a kiss. And since kisses, even from afar, are very much loved by old ladies, we both climbed onto a cloud, me on mine, she on hers.