If taking the elevators ensures you not to be boxing with a sort of human sponges sweat dripping, inside the Museums you MUST to risk it!
It happens sometimes to be in the same room with people who – regardless of the most basic rules of hygiene – emit a bad smell in the air, a sort of disgusting smells of wet goat. So you just have to move to another room, even if it means to follow the tour pathway in the opposite direction: you have to survive! This is the reasons why I do not like to go into crowded places in the summer – unless they are outdoors.
Today is rainy so I’m going to spend some time telling you about myself and my independent life (later I probably will go to a local pastry shop to drink a tea with some cookies…). This is my first post in English, so please forgive my mistakes!
the Independent Living Movement grew out of the Disability Rights Movement, which began in the 1960s.
As you probably know, I’m Italian and I live in a small village not too far from Turin. I’ve been living alone for two years, since I went to live in the city center of Turin with a Pakistani boy who was a student of the Polytechnic of Turin. We lived together for six months, in a small house behind the University. I can remember the smell of spices and tobacco inside the house, and the tasty dishes that he used to cook…I loved the Pakistani recipes, even if the first time I tasted a dish called Quorma prepared with a spicy sauce and chili, it set fire to my mouth as if someone had struck a match on my tongue!
a SMArt way 