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I read the paper this morning and got so pissed off that I started fantasizing to get me through. The clash between revelers and residents seems to come out of The Neverending Story .

Many years ago, Schio was in the kingdom of Fantàsia: full center and air full of laughter and music. Of course, it wasn't all roses and flowers: buckets of water flew over the noisy clientele of the Half Moon, so much so that the place even hired "buttadentro" for Wednesday (imagine Saturday). Once there was a fight in front of the national team and a friend of basketball found himself with a swollen eye. It happened.

At a certain point the Nothing began to advance, silent and inexorable. Schio emptied himself.


So we mounted our Fortunadrago to reach Piazza Delle Erbe in Padua, where Fantàsia was still intact: people played the guitar near spritz fountains with gin, while some characters spread reggae from a box mounted on a cart.

Then the Nothing began to swallow everything there too. Early closures and heavy fines flocked, while the carabinieri asked everyone for documents .

Today in Schio the young people do not know where they are. Maybe at home playing at Fort, maybe in some club in the industrial area, maybe in the busiest cities. Only a few places resist the void, including our summer Ivory Tower, the Castle, and the happy island between Bacaro and Gentilia.

This is why the letter written by the 150 citizens against "nightlife" makes my balls spin . evening, it is as absurd as snorting for the absence of Tezenis on the Novegno.

Of course, finding a dirty wall or hearing noise at four in the morning is not the best, for heaven's sake. Last summer we were on business in France and we couldn't sleep because of the World Cup: really annoying.

But the residents of the center do not decide what an entire citizenry can or cannot do in their own city, end of discussion. We ask the Oracle what to do; maybe we will lend you Fortunadrago and you will leave ten thousand miles from here. .


I am not and will never be with those who cheer for Nothing. I don't want to live in the Swamps of Sadness. Down with Nothing. Come on Fantàsia.

from Il Giornale di Vicenza of 22 February 2017

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