At the airport I’m waiting for a plane to Paris where I will begin rehearsing Barker’s Gertrude at the Odeon.
I’m sitting on the usual uncomfortable chair of iron and I’m remarking on the telephone the latest sad national news with a friend.
An old grim, well-dressed cries out next to me: «If you do not like how things are going, go away!, we do not need you here in Italy, go away!»
I am surprised, so I object calmly that I was doing a private talk and what I was saying did not concern him. He shouts to be as member of Italian Parliament and that if I had not planted he would call the police …
He’s a fake?
He’s a exaggerating?
He’s an old fool?
Did I imagine it?
Is it a nightmare?
I do not know …
Sure is that never as before the arrival in Paris that time had the flavor of an exile.
Giorgio Barberio Corsetti
