Paper Dreams

“It’s here!” My wife’s voice on the phone is excited, even a little bit scared.“Are you sure? ” I ask. It’s a stupid question,...

The square. The portico. The clock tower, standing out from the city hall behind the square, reminds the townspeople of the uncertainty of...

  Scene: the crowded compartment of a (filthy, need I say it?) Italian train. A guy in jeans and a casual jacket is trying to cut...

  -But writing what? -Writing about obsession, death. -What obsession? What death? -Writing about obsession, writing about death. -I do not understand. -You cannot. You cannot if you do not...

What will people think of me? I’m an idiot. That’s clear. It’s hard to balme them. What do you think of somebody, who, while sitting at...

«The director was even moved», said Irina, the editor in chief of Amoreux. «I'm glad», said Imerio at the other end of the line. But...

  The love of reading is her gift. Reserved and, according to some, a bit grumpy, Aunt Serafina had been silently waiting for retirement, and then,...

Living room of a middle-class apartment. A man in his forties, wearing jeans and a cotton shirt, is sitting on the couch with a...

  The Master is a living median reincarnation between Yoko Ono and John Lennon, as if in his features, in his gestures, and even in...

  Now is the time.      On my monitor, the input line flashes on the blank page.  So many nice characters in my mind, and a...