A black Porsche streaks at 220 km/h along the Milan-Turin highway. Other cars quickly pull over, without even waiting for a flash of the high beams. They aren’t afraid of the high-speed beast, but of its driver: a guy with a plastered-on grin, singing at the top of his lungs and dancing with the same conviction as Gigi D’Agostino behind the decks. That guy is me. An unusual euphoria fills...
I wait for her standing in front of the restaurant, a high-end Japanese place specializing in meat dishes. Here comes the taxi. Through the windows, I catch a glimpse of her silhouette. She adjusts herself with the confidence of a diva about to take the stage at La Scala. Meanwhile, the taxi driver leans forward.He searches for my gaze.His face is flushed, eyes bulging.He gives me a dazed smile...
