We are Roberta and Valeria, we are twins and maybe you can remember how we valleys Uncle Pino Taranto on TeleMonteGarriolo, or maybe you have bought our box of Neapolitan songs. Now we are grown and live in the village, where people treat us with due respect. Now that Tantino was razed to the ground by excavators - and he has remained open even heroic in that fateful moment, heedless of the cries of his friends, looking stoic captain of the sinking with his ship - we are selling alcohol at night Palermo thirsty and insurrectionist. We manage the store following the rules of the old school, we open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year and we sell everything to everyone, from 6 to 99 years to dall'assenzio shields. Palermo has always been thirsty, but above all it has now. And then it's hot. But here, they, the children of the street, young bastards who live in packs, like dogs. WHAT DO YOU WANT? We ask in unison, as always. We know what they want. I want balloons to put in the paint and then sniff until he lost consciousness. But no, this time we ask for something different. They want a salve for burns. We remember that the only thing we have in store is the after-sun cream. They accepted. Not we know what can serve, perhaps found a way to get high in inserting a balloon. They're gone and there is someone waiting for them outside, do not see him in the face but certainly not a child. When we enter the heart leaps. It is charred. And sweaty. It's the premier. ALSO GIVE ME A BOTTLE OF CINAR, I have a mission. We give Cinar, the children then hoisted it on his shoulders and carry him away, swallowed up by oxen wet night, in a pack.
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