VI

To make a long story short: economic conditions deteriorated.

My salary wasn’t enough to support four people and on top of that to cover the household expenses. One night I got home and the electricity had been turned off. It didn’t matter to me, but we had to pawn my mother’s wedding ring and several other things (that we never got back) to pay the bill and have electricity again so that we could at least watch TV.

One afternoon at the salon when there was nothing to do, I was flipping through a magazine and I found a quiz. It seemed to have been written just for me. The magazine was called Donna Moderna and it was the first time I had seen it. When I went home I took it with me and answered the questions.

“What do you think about men in their teens?”

They’re like my brother, I guess. They don’t have jobs. I like them.

“What do you think about men in their 20s?”

I don’t know.

“What’s a good age to die?”

Thirty-six, maybe. Before I turn forty.

“What actor would you date?”

Brad Pitt.

“What actor would you marry?”

Edward Norton.

“What actor would you choose as your lover?”

Antonio Banderas.

“What actor would you choose as your father?”

Robert De Niro.

“What actress would you choose as your best friend?”

Maria Grazia Cucinotta. (Surprising answer, because I always thought Maria Grazia Cucinotta looked superficial and egotistical, like someone who only cared about herself.)

“What actress would you be?”

Maria Grazia Cucinotta.

“Do you know anyone who would risk his life for you?”

No, I don’t. And if I did, I’d do everything I could to change his mind. I’d tell him it wasn’t worth risking his life for me. I’d reveal my true self and then he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.

“If you were a bird, what kind of bird would you be?”

An owl.

“If you were a mammal, what kind of mammal would you be?”

A mole. Or a rat. In fact, I already live like a rat.

“If you were a fish, what kind of fish would you be?”

The kind that’s used as bait. Once, when I was little, I saw a fisherman on Lake Albano, near Castel Gandolfo, where the Pope lives. He was fishing with a giant fishing rod and next to him he had a bucket and a little box. In the bucket were the fish he had just caught, three, I think, horrible, half dead, sandy black, and in the little box were the fish that the fisherman used as bait. They were tiny fish, translucent and silvery. When I asked the fisherman if he had caught all of them, he answered that he hadn’t, that some of them, the big ones, were the parents, and the little ones were the children. And that he had caught the big ones, and bought the little ones at a fishmonger’s in Frascati. And that they weren’t good to eat, they were only good as bait.

“What kind of geological feature would you be?”

A deep-sea trench.

“If you were a car, what kind of car would you be?”

A Fiat of flesh. (Not a good answer. What I’d really like to be is a vintage car, a Lamborghini. And I’d only leave the garage two or three times a year. I’d also like to be a Los Angeles taxi, the seats stained with semen and blood. Actually, I don’t know how to drive and I couldn’t care less about cars.)

“If you were a movie, what movie would you be?”

I’d be War and Peace, with Audrey Hepburn and Henry Fonda. I saw it a while ago on TV. And a strange thing happened: my brother and the Bolognan fell asleep. But the Libyan made it to the end and he said that he thought it was an amazing movie. I think so too, I said. Yes, I could tell, he said.

“If you had to kill someone, who would you kill?”

Whoever. I’d go over to the window and kill whoever.

“If you were a country, what country would you be?”

Algeria.

“Would you call yourself attractive?”

Yes.

“Would you call yourself intelligent?”

No.

“If you had to kill someone, what weapon would you choose?”

A gun. I had a friend at school who said she’d like to blow up her boyfriend with an atomic bomb. I remember I thought that was really funny, because it wouldn’t be just my friend’s boyfriend who’d die, I would die too, and so would everyone in and around Rome, maybe even the fishermen of Frascati.

“How many children would you like to have?”

Zero.

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