And so you end up in a dingy backroom, scrolling through your foolish things, which until the day before were just a guilty pastime, with an uncommenting, extremely professional Neanderthal ready to print them. You shyly hold your USB stick out to him, as if it contained amateur porn clips of you and your pet in unconventional attitudes. The other employee is helping out what may be a terrorist cell printing out their recruitment posters. Or simply a restaurant ad for Tor Pignattara. Who knows?
There’ll be a show of my stupid innocent nightly nightmares. On Friday. I’ve had scarce 10 minutes to select them, make them ready, prepare them for print. I’ve never seen them printed. I don’t know how big they are. It comes out they fit a square meter and a half. The only thing I wish to do now is go home, vomit, then go to bed and stick my head under the duvet.
Wanna see them? I’ll let you know exactly when and where. Hope you like them!