my first memory of Anna is a phone call from Zoe from barcelona.
earlier that day, nine years ago, an italian woman was browsing through her shop. they started to chat, she was from milan, she worked in the music business, she knew who i was. Zoe was impressed by that woman, so different from all the other italians she had happened to meet thus far. Anna was lively, bright, friendly..

even when i moved to brighton Anna used to call quite often, mostly by mistake: my number was the first in her mobile phone and she always forgot to lock the keypad. i found myself projected inside her handbag, trying to overhear a conversation which was none of my business or just listening to the background noises of a city far away in time and space.
once, though, the noises were those of a band playing on one of the biggest stages in milan: Anna was calling to tell me that that would have never happened without me.
maybe not true but certainly appreciated.

my last memory of Anna... well i'm trying hard to forget THAT. it just wasn't her.

i don't believe in any kind of after life. still, there's the chance i might be wrong (ehi, it has happened before) therefore i am comforted by the thought that, wherever she might be now, she's already telling the boss off.

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