Welcome home Viola. I said goodbye to New York and went back home. The shock of the return is more traumatic than expected. At passport control I am not worthy of a look from the policeman on duty who is too busy trying to attract the attention of Riccardo Cocciante "Oh Master, how come I never go any famous person?". At the train station at Fiumicino risk asphyxia due to wild smokers who ignore the fact that we are closed. I am embarking on a journey of hope on to Termini. 40 minutes walking speed Eurostar train to Florence and almost lost. "I'm not a racist but you have to understand that you're not at home. Lower your voice I'm trying to sleep. " A distinguished man yells at a woman with two African children a bit 'lively, giving the familiar tu. Welcome home. Suddenly a sketch of autogenic training trying to convince me that it is all a dream. I hope wake up on time and in stinky but the Democratic New York subway.
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