She opened the window. She was stressed and she did not have a decent sleep since a long time. She sighed, conscious that nobody could comfort her on that moment. The weather outside was gloomy, and leaning from her tiny opening she could see some clouds leaving to make room for a bright, celestial sky. The tallest tree of the little park was blossoming of green, large leaves. Then, a little bird sung its reassuring call. She left the window open with a big smile when returning to her cup of coffee.



He started talking about the Syrian crisis in that table of friends and colleagues, but his manners and his accent just made everyone’s thinking, in a sort of silent mutual agreement she was sure, how eccentric that goofy British guy looked like.


While she was copying some passages of her diary into her pc, she realized how ugly her handwriting was. She had a hard time reading it as well. However, she knew that she made it on purpose. She loved the sensation of feeling lost it gave her, it was like running without looking back.


Although she followed all the good sleep suggestions of her favourite health blog, her sleep was behaving like a little child, tickling her nose to keep her awake staring at the steep ceiling.


He came with a yellow car with one of the doors painted in blue. Looked amazing how such an old car could still work after all the noticeable years had passed since its fabrication. She jumped in the car without expecting him to open her the door. “I own you a ride” she told him with the sincerest smile on her face.


The British people he was sharing the chit chat with did not really understand the meaning he was giving to that expression. They thought that that skinny Italian boy referred to a past time when he used to live in the countryside, not knowing that to be put al fresco in Italian means to be sent to jail.

Yom Tov

The alcohol made her thoughts fly over the warm gas lamps hanging from the ceiling, above that little sweaty corner in the midst of piercing cold winds. The brim of the exotic cocktail she was having paused just 1 centimetre before her lips, as she realized the emails she had to answer the day after – a blue Monday.