Are Strong Mints A Laxative

It 's a question of democracy (and foam)

I've always been the idea that things can be divided into democratic and undemocratic.

Read "Republic" is democratic, because the modest price of € 1 (maximum € 1.50) criticistico train your spirit, you have the chance to vent the accumulated tension until mid-morning with people that you're fond of a "I can not believe" and "But you read it?" sheer madness! " and, perhaps, with a Marlborino between the index and middle fingers the left hand. A

Armani is not democratic, because while exuding elegance of every fiber, is not accessible to everyone.

Ice cream is democratic, because the price of 2 € reawaken a child's face and a big smile, let's talk, is not a trivial matter.

The human body is not democratic, because if everyone is given the right physical shape of the gym, do not all look in the mirror can be said of satisfaction with their nose.

The subway is democratic, you can see young girls, Vuitton trunk in hand, sit side by side with homeless people over sixty.

But what is the quintessence of democracy and the true litmus test of the country is, however absurd it may sound, the coffee.

Now.

admit that my being a hopelessly caffeinomane statements involve a vision of the part (and indeed it is), but I think, at a price of € 0.90 (should be pretty much the figure, the coffee I drank in the last two months, I have always been offered are not so tied up with inflation) you can sit at a table, stay for a considerable period of time and have a chat with nice people in front of you-or at least presumed to be such if we you get out. "

Priced at 90 cents you can look around, guess who's lives are busy figures on the balcony, leafing through a newspaper curled at the edges, swinging his head absently humming the song that the radio broadcasts at low volume.

is not a small pizza or a sandwich or a sandwich (that sort of thing that mothers forbade you at the bar except in exceptional cases, because the snack you could do at home and you feel so far guilty to buy back, memories setbacks), but a pleasure for everyone, even the elderly begging at the station, raise the coins collected in the last three hours.

remember that no more than a few months ago, in Mestre, I spotted a row and, you know, when you line up the only pastime that lends itself to being carried out is to look around. My eye fell on a woman who has had no more than seventy years, his hair reduced to broken wires and blackened faces, a little 'for the smog, a little' for the poor personal hygiene, a little 'because I suppose it was December and cleanse it with the icy water of the public toilets would take at least a pneumonia.

The eye, a fat blue, was barely peeking in the network of wrinkles that are issued along the lines of the face and bend the corners of his mouth into a smile lost. He moved with uncertainty in the room, with the caution characteristic of someone entering a home that is not is his. You could almost get the impression that a perceived sense of awe even to the package of potato chips on his right.

We tend, a little 'for empathy and a little' to genuine curiosity, to be unable to offset the scenes look like (and presumptuously think it's a beautiful thing, I am anxious to get used to the idea of scandal in the fact that we are in 2009 and there are still people unhappy) and I, alas, am no exception. If

nie noticed. I watched that, I say. Hath been approached, holding out his hand, the static smile on his face and eyes that seemed to look at your picture without collecting really.

"You have a euro? For a coffee, only a € ".

I was tight stomach. And not to request that, needless to say, was instantly satisfied, as to the knowledge that if there was no money necessary to stain, let alone to get something more substantial.

I thought about the diets of the models that are high on cocaine and cafes to escape the hunger cramps. I thought the heat ephemeral that a cup can be transmitted to the fingers. And I thought that if in my country even a single human being could not afford a coffee, then we were really fruit. I did not know, but my assumption would be to some extent confirmed by newspapers and magazines that in a few months, they started talking about the mortgage crisis first and then recession. A speck, a litmus test.

I gave her € 2 and I invited her to climb in a row, repeating once again that coffee is the most democratic in the world exists.

€ 0.90, you can look around, guess who's lives are busy figures on the balcony, leafing through a newspaper curled at the edges, swinging his head absently humming the song that the radio broadcasts at low volume. A macchiato

to download the conscience.

And the illusion, for the remainder of the afternoon, there is some sort of brotherhood or real cohesion among the people Italian.