We had some strange talks on sleepless nights, and we were really friends. Now we are travelling on two different routes: me with my ghosts to chase, you with your identity that you will not find.
We will also die, alone as I am now, dying from the bitter cold, inside a too heavy coat, with the smell of fried fish in my nose. Among white girls I can't even look in the eye.
But what am I doing in this icy sea, I who love tropical climates?
EN 
IT 