[...] There is – this is
the view of the Spaniard living in the house – universal love and
shit both being part of the universe, so we must love that too, shitting
being the ultimate in self-expression. If only it were possible to be
courageous enough to say to the world “here I am” unashamadly,
by taking a crap in the middle of the street without apology.
There is Tira, single mother of two, talented intellectual of psychology books, who was brilliant with her children, basing herself on all the newest parenting philosophies, such as breast feeding until the child is twelve. Actually she only breast fed until her children were two or so, maybe one and a half. And as a staunch advocate of emotional intelligence, her children were the ones who had it the most together in the house.
Oh, there are the famous Italians. Two of them, and quite diametrically opposed. One was from the south, the other from the north. (Could it be that simple?) One was tiny, balding, and manic about cleanliness – Luiggi; yet very groovy indeed. He wore seriously cool tartan caps, and jackets, and shades, but it all looked wonderfully understated. He had given up everything in Italy – he was forty or so – in order to finally live his dream of getting back to his drumming and there he was perfecting [...]