It is time, I thought yesterday, that I left Italy. And not only because they keep beating us at football.
There are other reasons.
I don’t feel like hearing people screaming in the street anymore.
I don’t feel like being ripped off anymore.
I don’t feel like checking my change to make sure everything is there anymore.
I don’t feel like waiting for the bus not knowing if it will ever show up anymore.
I don’t feel like coping with their rudeness anymore.
I don’t feel like stumbling on their busted cobblestones anymore.
I don’t feel like hearing of their corrupt politicians anymore.
Yesterday, then, I thought of Zidane.
There are other reasons.
I don’t feel like hearing people screaming in the street anymore.
I don’t feel like being ripped off anymore.
I don’t feel like checking my change to make sure everything is there anymore.
I don’t feel like waiting for the bus not knowing if it will ever show up anymore.
I don’t feel like coping with their rudeness anymore.
I don’t feel like stumbling on their busted cobblestones anymore.
I don’t feel like hearing of their corrupt politicians anymore.
Yesterday, then, I thought of Zidane.
3 comments:
Amen!
Amen!
Leave then. It seems nobody will miss you here, anyway.
Post a Comment