After the gloomy eye story, I want to talk about another civil servant I know, but not about his work, ‘cause there is not much to say. Adriano is a good friend, a caring dad and, above all, a failed singer. He sings off-key and hits a wrong note, with the same devilish intensity as Barry Bonds when he hit a home run. But when Adriano loves a song, he doesn’t give a damn, he has to sing it. Unfortunately the songs he loves are often a deep melancholy concentrated juice. He’s a faithful Ivano Fossati’s fan, now you know what I meant when I said “melancholy”. Fossati is a sad Italian singer and Adriano calls him “the Maestro”, but love is blind, we have to understand him. If the glass breaks all of a sudden and you lean out of your broken window, maybe you can listen to a distant squeaky voice which sings something like “The heart blows up, light years away outside of me.” You don’t need to ask who is it. You knows what happened, Adriano’s singing again.