Diurnal reflections of an Italian in London:
For many it is just a meeting, a quirk between two sides, a little more than the normal evening with some moody and some fleeting joy. A chill in the newspaper tomorrow. I know, I understand. Youaren't fuck anything!
But for me that's a bit different. And this diversity is rooted in the culture of reference marks you and me.
So I take every day your underground, read your books, turn over your newspaper's pages, watch your TV, I learn your language, I am attracted by your advertising, I mingle with your crown, pay your taxes, I'm bored to wait for your bus and shut the door of a house on your land. I am grateful for the opportunities that present themselves to me in this land, like today.
Where the sense of rejection for all that's striped red and white turns into something deeper that clash with the blue, my dear, something what not unite but divide.
No let me fall into hypocrisy immigrant who disdains fertile soils where seeding, I know that , today there will be no sympathy for you and for this land, everything will disappear out the door. Today my eyes see the worst, my green eyes today are Blue.
Your Lions meet my Gladiators, fangs against his bare hands, Jaws against Mouth.
Two slavery in comparison.
England Vs Italy.
A ticket to hell or to heaven.
F ** k O **
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