Shanghai: I Don’t Like Goodbyes

Ever since I’ve been an Expat, June becomes a difficult month. The schools end and all are flying back to their Countries of origin for the summer holidays. So everyone spends the last few days going to fake markets to buy handbags and sweatshirts for relatives and friends, to prepare suitcases, to greet friends. The fridge, which usually seems empty, is inexplicably transformed into a magic garden capable of producing food itself: there are delicious broccoli out of the vegetable trays, jumbo eggs playing hide-and-seek behind cans of beer, salad leaves disguised as geckos hanging on the bottom. Between a school year-end recital and an essential pedicure before leaving, there are the farewell parties. Lunches, dinners or alcoholic parties where

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Do Not Watch Grey’s Anatomy

You should do a psychological test before pressing the play button on your DVD player. Do you feel melancholy? Did you cry for something in the last few days? Is your love life (if you have one) going through a crisis? Has more than Seven days passed since the last time you had sex? Do you have your period? Did you quarrel with your best friend? Did your golden fish recently die? Do you feel lost in a “dark place”? Well, if you answered YES to at least 5 questions out of 8 then you are not psychologically and emotionally fit to the vision of Grey’s Anatomy. You can watch Arrow, he’s extremely sexy, he does all the time the

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Damn Basketball, I Hate You!

I’m lying in the noisy tunnel of an MRI, again. Agonizing. I’m not claustrophobic. But it’s cold, I have to keep my leg firm and It hurts, I want to move it. TOC TOC TOC These headphones don’t isolate a fucking sound. In Grey’s Anatomy, Derek would enter the door and hold my hand. What if I also broke the last ligament I’ve got left? What if I cannot walk anymore? What if I have to put on a knee prosthesis? Fuck I am just 41. Damn Basketball I hate you. TOC TOC TOC Can I have some music here??  If I’ve broken also the collateral ligament, it is the end. Maybe is just the meniscus. Hopefully it’s just the

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Shanghai: Nails, Toxic Plastic and Hysterical Moms

My daughter starts to bite her nails. I know, I know it’s something that come and then goes. But for me, dogged nail-bitter since childhood until the age of twenty-nine, it is a trauma. I still remember the pleasure of gnawing, the hangnail evisceration until it bled, the flaking of the nail in layers up to the root and the final tear, a painful self-inflicted punishment. “My love, how come you never stop?” As if I don’t know the answer… “Mom, the thing is, I do not even notice eating them, but I always do. Yesterday I ate even those of my toes.” AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH “I feel nervous in my teeth and I really want to gnaw something.” “Okay, for now

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