|Photograph by Amanda Marie Martinez|
|Carol and I, Photograph by|
As we get into the car, Christian gives me about 20 kisses, lips, cheek, and all. He's only nine years old and if he were any other nationality I suppose it would be a bit weird. Every time I get in the car with Carol's family, the windows are always open. I'm going to be honest here and also say that no one ever wears their seat-belt. I wasn't so surprised by this, as it's familiar to me because my grandmother, (very European,) has to be forced to wear her seat belt every time she gets in the car with us at home. But this sort of habit enforces what I said previously about not having any worries. I didn't mean it in an entirely romantic way. It's just a way of life that, for me, is very difficult to understand. I worry constantly and curse my life a lot for a person who always wears her seat belt. I mean, if my life is troublesome, what do I have to lose? Why do I not do as they do? They are happier overall, I think, without all these worries, so if anyone should be wearing their seat belt it should be them, (if you've seen the way Italians drive, you know another reason why they, specifically, should wear seat belts.) But perhaps it is I, who has a style of life that doesn't make sense. One in which I worry so much that at times I think of ending it all, yet I take all of the cautionary measures that prevent such a thing.
|My school - Liceo Bernardino Telesio|
(hypothesis to be further developed during my time here.)