genova saturday

milano is where my week happens. genova is where part of me keeps waiting. #

Genova today. Dad met me and almost immediately there was focaccia involved, because apparently I am incapable of writing about arriving here without food appearing within the first paragraph. Tia later. I have to keep explaining this on Splinder because people flatten everybody I mention into one imaginary group: Tia is here, in Genova. Edo is in Lecco and mostly lives in an MSN window as far as this blog is concerned. Hikari, Erick and Yuri are part of my normal Milano geography. They don’t all gather in one room every weekend like a television cast. Tia has started reading Eclixar regularly and now complains when she discovers something from the blog before I tell her personally. Today she said, `”So Bambolina?”` with exactly the expression I knew she would make. I told her to shut up. She asked whether Yuri really calls me that. Yes. She asked whether I secretly love it. No. She stared at me. Fine. Maybe. We went out later, but Saturdays here feel different because I don’t have my usual machinery around me. In Milano I know where we’re likely to go, who will probably appear, what the night will feel like before it starts. With Tia I follow. It’s nice. Dad still asked what time I would be home. Eighteen years old, nearly nineteen, and apparently there is no constitutional right to avoid this question.

Remember me, Eclipse.