Made in Italy Page #5

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it wasn't simple.

We'll give you a clean reference.

I'll allow for your "f*** you"

and good luck.

Even at breakfast ?

It's a beautiful day.

Let's do something, come on !

Riccione ?

Cinque Terre.

See if Angela's free.

Go with her.

I think you should stop looking for work

for a while.

You've become obsessed.

We'll manage, the salon's doing well.

Cesenatico ?

Saint Tropez ?

Monte Carlo !

All dressed up.

I'll wear that amazing dress,

with the low-cut neckline.

You'll wear big sunglasses.

Found a job ?

No luck ?

Don't worry, you'll find something.

Have you just woken up ?

It all gets messed up.

Day, night...

Can't you get it up 7

That happens.

How do you get through the day ?

I can't take it anymore.

He just sits there, saying nothing...

Matteo keeps calling him,

so do Max and Patrizio...

I know.

He won't even turn his phone on.

He just sits in front of the TV

with the volume off.

I have to take him to the therapist

or he won't go.

I have to feed him his medication.

- He'll pull through, I'm sure.

- I'm not, it's been six months.

He doesn't even wash anymore.

Every so often I force myself

to make love but even there...

I do all the work.

- Is he still looking for work ?

- Not really.

I understand, it's constant rejections.

But...

We can still get by,

it's not that.

You know that's not how it works.

It's not just about the wage packet.

Let's go out dancing.

It wasn't a question.

Come on.

What a beauty !

Answer, dammit ! Answer.

Come on, dad.

Eat.

No, you have to eat !

Don't say you don't like

what I've made.

I'm sick to death of this !

I work all day like a slave

and you don't lift a finger!

Snap out of it ! Do something !

Eat your soup !

I spent half an hour making it,

you have to eat it.

Eat, you're too thin.

Eat.

Eat.

Eat. Come on !

F*** you g

F*** you g

Come here.

Come here.

Hey, nutcase !

I mean, just saying...

Yes, you nutcase !

Shall we go for a drink ?

You'd rather stay here in the car ?

It's up to you.

The last time I saw you,

you spoke.

Whereas you've never stopped.

Wait, you threw yourself

into the Po River...

Are you radioactive ?

If you are, you should tell me.

If you become like Hulk,

we'll open a circus just for you.

- Okay ?

- F*** you !

He threw himself into the Po River !

Cut it out!

Hi.

Lidia told me that you met up with Max.

I'm glad.

I didn't fancy cooking,

I got us some pizzas.

- Is there a film on ?

- Yes.

This is good one !

But we have to turn it up,

even just for the music.

I'll get something to drink.

Beer, Coke, water ? You choose.

Yes ?

Yes ?

Yes I

Yes I

Hi, Carnival. Where are you ?

Wherever you are,

maybe these words will reach you.

Ever think I'd be a dogsbody

in a restaurant in Frankfurt ?

It's not a bad city.

A bit harsh... even its name:

Frankfurt.

I've been here for four months now

and, well...

It's tough.

But I'm tough too.

You have to take the work you get,

if you can.

Pavak found me the job,

he's got relatives here.

It's an Italian restaurant, with lots of

Italian customers, Italian food...

I do quite well, at the end of the day.

It's well-paid.

I'm going to be a dad again

next month.

Do you find that funny ? So do I.

Sara's terrified.

Every day I tell her that

the baby will be healthy and strong.

It's a girl.

I don't just say it to reassure her

but because I know

that's how it will be.

You know that Sara beat me up once ?

Proper blows, by the way.

Because I'd decided to come here.

And even now, every goddamn day,

she treats me like a kid.

Enough ! Leave that place ! Come home !

But the point is precisely that home.

I'm not going to sell that house.

Maybe one day one of my children

will sell it.

But I'm not selling it.

Because I want to go back.

Because I will go back.

I'll go back.

I read somewhere

that it takes seven years for our cells

to die and make way for new ones.

As I've got plenty of time to think,

I was wondering:

"How come we're still us ?

What's that particle made of

that survives once our cells die ?"

I'm made of my family,

I'm made of you,

of Max, of all the others.

We're made of our small city,

of its walls,

of the stories we've been told about it

and of others like us.

We're made of that air.

I know you'll laugh

when I tell you that I've realized

what being homesick means.

But it's true.

It's so strong I sometimes think

that you can't confine air.

Then it seems like I can see,

from here, from far away,

that perhaps in some way,

somehow,

we're also made of Trieste,

Milan, Cagliari,

Lecce, Venice,

Pescara, Palermo.

Perhaps we're made of beauty

and putridness.

Of lies, of fear.

Of chaos and wonders.

And we're also made of last ditch efforts.

A series of last ditch efforts.

We're made of contempt...

and yes...

of love.

Do you think I've become sentimental ?

Yes...

I'm waiting to see how things work out.

But at least I know they will work out,

I'm sure of that.

Wherever you are,

take care of yourself.

And wherever you are,

I'm sending you a big hug.

P.S. The other day Pietro sent me

an email with a quote by Cesare Pavese.

This is what it said:

"You need a village,

if only for the pleasure of leaving it.

Your own village means that

you are not alone.

That you know that in the people

and the plants and the soil,

there is something of you,

that even when you are not there,

it waits to welcome you back."

WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE ?

What am I doing here ?

What am I doing here...

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