I have a new tale, my friends. A tale for when we are all together around a table, sipping wine. A tale to pay attention to, in silence, and is not a delightful one. It's the story of Chiara, who was abused by her stepfather for the first time when she was 11. And it's Ukake's story, whose parents were killed in Nigeria due to religious hatred. It's the story of Marta, who mistook the dose of tranquillizers and was just on time to call the ambulance, and the story of Maria, who really tried to kill herself with the drugs but was saved by her friend. It's a tale talking about Muhammad, who came to Italy looking for a job but was caught by the police with a hospital paper stating his nationality in his pocket and was sent back to Marocco. It's the story of Jessica, who grew in her own mind the certainty that she couldn't trust anyone and spent her life with the fear of everybody. It's Ismail's story, who used to sleep rough, and the story of Sokol, who killed his father with a shovel. It's the story of Katia, who was anorexic and was letting herself starving to death, and it's the story of Bianca, who had sold her body for money and can't make peace with herself after many years.
It's a tale without an end, the story of people you may know. It's a tale talking about people blurring in the crowd that flows around you stroking you continuously. A tale that you could hear from their own mouth if you only would pay attention.
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