A mild October afternoon in Rome. A narrow street, old buildings on both sides. A bookshop. All used books, all in English. A woven basket at the entrance, tagged “free books”. Inside, dim light but good enough to find your way through the many shelves and tables and drawers full of treasures. It smells of old paper and dust. Total silence for a few minutes, followed by a barely audible sound in a corner where there’s an old wooden desk. Seated behind it is a middle aged lady who’s smoking a cigarette and writing something in a notebook. Next to her sleeps a white dog who opens an eye then closes it back in the laziest manner. You feel out of time, at ease to explore the place at slow pace. A bit of heaven.



Imi povestea o colega de serviciu ca isi invitase fiica impreuna cu iubitul la cina, la ora 18. La 18.15 inca nu aparusera asa ca, infometata si usor enervata, suna sa vada ce se-ntimpla. Raspunde fiica: “Mama, scuze, sintem in intirziere, stiu, dar Antonio inca nu si-a terminat de intins parul cu placa.”

Unde, dar unde a sfirsit idealul de mascul inalt, atletic, brunet, puternic?!?!?!

E oripilant sa umblu pe strada si sa vad numai barbati cu bucile pe-afara, cu coafuri fanteziste etc. In pula mea feminina, ca sa zic asa.



Edit: urban dictionary zice ca il cheama nancy

(n): Mocking term for a man engaging in feminine activities or otherwise compromising his masculinity.
Come on Nancy, you’ve been getting ready for an hour. We’re late for the game.