Torino more fascinates me every time, now I have no doubts. It is not Venice, not Rome, not Florence (and the list of cities commonly regarded as fascinating and beautiful is far), but for me, has something unique. More than a rational finding a hunch: I feel at home, at ease, also along for the first time, a ordered crossroads. There is no hostility in the walls of the houses in the asphalt and ice, is a home away from home that is well suited affection of habit. A good start for the second time the new year, since the official start was definitely to forget. Nothing serious, if not for the fact that I always tend to attribute too much importance to conventional dates: the day for a birthday, the end of a year, and so on. Every December, for some years now, I like to think back to the past twelve months and identify the best moment . Write in a notebook, trying to describe in detail what happened inside and outside of me, what did it mean, why. It seems difficult to say: 325600 minutes is too much because if they could choose only one . But without too much effort or too much effort, I always come naturally to mind that moment important, or specific, or special . I never had any doubt that he alone was worth as much as the rest of the year. Maybe it's a habit a little 'childish or romantic, but the obsession with memory will not leave me never. Only in 2010, until now, is no exception: among the happy days and sad days there is a moment that I remember above all others. Will remain a blank page in the notebook ..
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