lessons teaching of French, eight hours a day. During lunch break one day, a colleague asked me to accompany her on what was then the most famous magician of Genoa.
In the early '70s, via San Lorenzo in Genoa was not the salon it is today. From Piazza De Ferrari at the Pier, passing beside the cathedral, this path straight horrible wound, gray exhaust and dirt of generations, frequented by prostitutes and drunken sailors. When it was necessary to go there (there were beautiful old shops with craft-type activities), it was trotting along, face down, trying not to look around ...
The front door was in poor condition. The beautiful old pediment was all chipped. In the lobby there was all kinds of garbage and the smell of urine. Everything was shrouded in darkness, even the stairs, and it was not easy to find the right door, especially with the fear of who knows what dark disturbing presence, and to meet with who knows who rounded up those old stairs and slippery. Of course, the bell was old style, with what looked like a key in the lock that was spun.
The great waiting room was full of people of every age and social status: Lord of Carignano and prostitutes Via Pré, queens of Via del Campo and shopkeepers, professionals and pimps, young people and pensioners. It was unbelievably cluttered up of chairs, old chairs and sofas and analysis, all different but all with a vaguely oriental and equivocal, at home closed from opium den.
For some time I ran away laughing, while my companion was agitated, panting and with eyes wide open, ready to "drink" anything. Everything was well orchestrated to influence people, no doubt about it.
was finally our turn, and we were made to accommodate in a totally dark, completely dark so that only a thorough job on the windows could have caused that effect. A floor lamp full of '20s-style pendant lighting up just a corner with a strictly three-legged table (four are too stable ...) and wrap up in a chair sat a very old woman, heavily bejeweled and made up. He knew he had a young lover who kept in luxury, and its refusal to renounce being a woman growing old and it was obvious and pathetic, and even tender. His voice echoed and amplified by an environment is clearly very large and empty.
It was hard not to laugh in the face of the woman, however, was admirable. He demonstrated an incredible ability to bring out the girl he wanted to know, and a superlative intuition in interpreting non-verbal language ... Too bad. Eh, if he could do psychology, as well. Often looked at me, frowning, and at one point spoke of "hostile presence."
exit, I and my colleague quarreled at times that she would not understand that she was to "communicate" in any way to "witch" who believe everything to have them heard.
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