Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Big Big Indian Breast

Old memories

Today I went to Milan, the city of my heart, and, among other things, I made a commission on a Lupetta, which is a side street of Via Torino. So, I went from Santa Maria Beltrade square, where my grandparents lived at number 1. How many memories! He was a top floor apartment, complete with a large room that served as goldsmith workshop where my grandfather worked with his three workers, and also my father before he opened his shop in Via Turati. My sister and I were enchanted by their work, and we did when we jewels of tissue paper, color them, forcing his grandfather and the workers to tell us that good ... probably the latter we would have gladly kicked in the ass, pain in the ass were two. Then we had "pasta" in passing the tissue paper mill and scolded us because they ruin it and consume too much paper.
From the kitchen window we could see the rooftops and the Duomo, which is there at your doorstep. My grandmother was the butcher to the lung (mica were the cans of Kitekat) and the cats were eating there on the window. There was a beautiful red that was stroking, it was exciting to see him coming from the roof so agile and elegant, perhaps from there I started to love cats and especially the red ones!
In the afternoon then my grandmother wore Upim nearby (or was it stand?) And we always buy a small toy, toys in those days were much more imaginative than now, then we would stop by Peck in Via Spadari , then there was the rotisserie primer now, was a delicatessen, my grandmother bought something and then the owner made us move from behind to go directly to our door.
And the week of Christmas ... in room bed in the closet grandmother kept all their gifts, we gave it a little early and then told us that baby Jesus would have been there to pick them on Christmas Eve to bring them to our home to Inverness.
There is another detail that I remember correctly, that the hatch of the garbage on the stairs, I was terrified when I spent the evening, I thought were out of there who knows what to get me down ... and I remember the beautiful skylight in the ceiling above the stairwell. And the board a bit 'equivocal on the third floor, with a bustle of couples who was gossip around the palace.
Now there are no more houses, my grandparents came off in the early 70 and are all offices of Peck, who in the meantime as I said (for so many years) has become famous and Superchic (to let us do the shopping you need a mortgage), but whenever I have occasion to pass all these memories fill my heart.
Milan is the most beautiful city in the world.

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