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True stories of racism in Italy

Fade, light and the scapegoat of this bloody farce is once again there.
In the middle of the frame, in the water, when the clothes get too heavy.
Never comparable to the never filled gaps, as hope in tomorrow and trust in others.
You know, when lacking overpowers with arrogance the rest, sometimes you let go.
If only there was someone, at that very moment, where the perfection of a gesture as a dip in the others’ life, driven by antiquated stuff like courage or simple affection for other people's breath, it would ruin the usual narration, that's for sure.
But at that point, we could finally get out of such horrible movie room, projecting too actual nightmares to really feel them as ours.

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