#asachild

For three years I lived on the third floor of the building, then I left my grandmother and my great-aunt - from now on I will call her "the aunt", as, in fact, we all called her - and I went upstairs, in a house with a large terrace overlooking the rooftops of Borgo dei Cappuccini. Sunny and sleepy summers, winters of plasmon biscuits, a taste of colds in the nose and kids' TV. My mother worked, drove the car, did the shopping at the supermarket, for the time she was a modern woman, perhaps even too much for me who did not like feeling different from others. A child always alone, with no one to play with. They tried to take me to kindergarten. I would cry at lunchtime, throw up the nuns' soup. They put me in the middle of the refectory, bleating and dirty with vomit, while I called desperately "mom". I was bored. I felt alone. Kindergarten was not for me.

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