Per il secondo semestre del corso di Laurea Magistrale in Scienze della Traduzione (ora denominato, inspiro, corso di Laurea Magistrale in Lingue Moderne, Letterature e Scienze della Traduzione, l'aria è andata tutta via, finiti i tempi in cui si diceva faccio Lingue ), sto camminando in fretta lungo il tortuoso e accidentato percorso che dal capolinea dei tram 5 e 14 conduce all'incrocio con Viale Einaudi, sede (momentanea) dei jumbo bus 90 e 90 X (Express). In questo percorso si trova una quantità di vita in fermentazione che neanche in uno yogurt. Al centro, due fiumane di gente in ordine uguale e contrario passano in mezzo a degli ombrelli di velluto con sopra appesi svariati orecchini. Ma queste sono cose che si possono find in any market. What catches the eye are more sellers of dolls .
These dolls are outputs from the worst nightmare of a toy store, have the curls model Baby Jane, with the dress in knickers, your shoes in color and looked plump and absence of other times that today we would call in need of slimming. It seems impossible that someone still assembling dolls like that, but obviously there is a parallel market and karst flowing below the Winx and Bratz. Do not forget the seller of the gadget squashed tomato that miraculously back in its original form, a guy pulls this all the time on a smooth tomato sauce, tomato is squashed, it seems to have kicked the bucket and instead returns as before. 
While passing the corner of my eye and you see this play silicone beaten mercilessly that always returns the same, you'd think to their existence and how many times have apparently squashed up again and then walk again . Supero earrings dolls and tomatoes and I headed to the 90. I know that I will have to choose the learning modules (ex- course) - and it seems to me to see so many Lego bricks - but I have not idea how to balance my days. Once on the bus happens to me a very strange thing: I give way. I really have to have the air of the old man, despite my MP4 player which I try to sderrecciare wire, and then I realize that the young ones are the ones that the thread of the player, or mobile, have already unraveled first leave the house. I can start the player and listen to something before I come down two stops, dribbling well organized itinerant violinist who comes from the East playing Historia de un Amor that was made in South
do I get off the bus and on foot two or three hundred meters that separate me from the faculty, the people who passed me or I come to meet me all seem to come from another world who are not dressed and so differently from how I was dressed - which incidentally I do not have never shone for fashionistas - but have a kind of invisible aura on him, as if sliding on the different tracks and unseen. I crossed the threshold and the small slope paved with diamond embossed with the pebbles behind each diamond, and turn left. I waited five steps, then a flight of stairs. Reached the last step, I realize one thing: I hurt my left knee. I would like to take the elevator, but I'm ashamed. Also I do not trust public lifts. While I do these meditazioni uno studente preme il bottone di chiamata dell'ascensore. A che piano sal e ? Fa lui. Io allora mi piego da una parte per giustificare il fatto che alla mia età, sì, è giusto prendere l'ascensore. Al primo, grazie . Poi, senza riprendere fiato: Dovrei andare a piedi, ma mi fa tanto male il ginocchio! . La mia interpretazione della vecchietta del cacao Talmone 
sta facendo scintille. Solo che il mio interlocutore non se ne accorge e mi risponde neutro: Non c'è problema! L'interpretazione era troppo perfetta.
Primo piano (quello di Languages: the second, more rare, is always of Philosophy). Right turn, rewind deft hand with the earphone cord around the player, opened the bag, pull out the phone, pull it out from the case made by me crochet - for which my father made this comment: As far as we you made it? Two hours? Lost two hours. - and go outside the door of the classroom where there should be a lesson. It should, because I doubt it. There are too few people. You are about to see that I'm wrong here. Entering I have a kind of trembling, as if the people sitting behind desks in the narrow folding chairs have to be up all together to throw me out. This current state of paranoia, however, vanishes not just five minutes after entering another person whom I know I like it. It has all the features, firstly carries a bag which could easily carry the broccoli from the market, looks around to see what is the best place to watch the lesson and eventually get up before the end not to bother, which must go home to meet the other pieces of his life, does not talk to anyone and have a pen and notebook in front of him as in television documentaries on rural schools in the Third World (the other students or colleagues greet launch text messaging). Finally, once sure of his position, takes off his coat.
We are not alone in the universe.
