I tend to ramble in superlatives when I’m on stage, so more often than not, when I mention what happened to me the minute I graduated from my Masters in Biotechnology back in 2007, my non-Italian friends raise the interrogative eyebrow of disbelief. I still wonder what part of this centuries long tradition is the most unbelievable one. That your closest family is gleaming with pride while posing for pictures one second, and turning into a bunch of sadists the very next one? O

Dear Friend, It feels like playing piano with mute pedal stuck and permanently pressed down. If feels like driving with a hand break, back in those days when we had the good ole manual hand breaks instead of a damn button - can't drive up the hill anymore with those shitty new "smart" cars when your wheels are slipping on the finest Italian cobblestone - no chance to press the gas pedal and gradually release the hand break until the wheels gain some grip. Fuck it. It feels li