You're crazy, Barbara!

I arrived from Perrone and opened the door of the building, coming face to face with an old motorcycle in the corner. I didn't even know if it was allowed to put that in there. Not even bicycles were left there, near the door, blocking the passage up the stairs. It would be a good idea to put it inside the elevator. At least it would be good for something, as it was now completely spoiled.

I climbed two stairs and came back, looking at the motorcycle again. Despite being battered by time, she remained beautiful. I remember seeing that model in magazines many years ago, when I was barely in my teens. I had a certain passion for motorcycles, even though I only rode one a few times.

Jardel bought a motorcycle once. I rode for a while and he let me drive for a few minutes. I remember it was one of the best feelings of freedom I've ever had. A short time later he traded his motorcycle for cocaine.

I went upstairs again, trying to push the bad thoughts away. How difficult it was to get rid