[...]

Guagnano, exactly seven o'clock, lying precisely in my comfortable and warm bed, the usual alarm clock rings and reminds me that I have to go to work. About fifteen minutes to consume a very sad coffee accompanied by biscuits and I'm already at the door of my apartment. Living on the sixth floor would be an annoying problem for everyone but not for me. On the contrary… I can't wait… I go down the stairs gracefully and sweetly, twirling here and there, creating different "choreographies" every day. Suddenly, however ... a scream ... "Gianluca stop being a dancer! You're just an electrician in a town of four thousand inhabitants!" The usual concierge who, like every day, never misses an opportunity to scold me. years now, that my dream is to be a dancer and she, as always, answers me with a chilling look that goes from horrified to ambiguous. The work does not help to remove this passion from my head. The workshop is always clean and tidy (almost a stage) and when I have a break, I don't miss an opportunity to pirouette and jump around the shop. Who knows, maybe trying to find some steps that the concierge might like ...