It 's a damn. We try to avoid seeing that face, but it's inevitable: you find the front, on all screens.
I finally understood where Berlusconi takes all the energy that makes it bounce here and there, on boxes, mezzanines and platforms across the world. I had lost everything: coke? pears in vitamins? a cocktail of his alchemical Scapagnini? transfusion of virgin blood? None of that. He takes it from me, energy, and those like me that just the (intra) have seen a sudden drop in sugar, protein, fat, calories, vitamins, everything.
If you have a bit of salt in the pumpkin, be careful! Turn off televisions, radios, computers, passing in front of posters with his head down, keep away from kiosks, newsstands, bookstores. You could see his image and fall to the ground stunned, exhausted, drained. That 's what happens to me. Just a frame of his plastic face, a discolored pixel pad on its head, a bit of his 64 teeth to smile or his chest pumped bancanote ... and I'm sick, vomiting, I limp, drained of everything. Luckily I've never seen live, I would be dead as a doornail.
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