I spent the summer from August 7th to 21st in Nettuno, where I took walks along the beach and through the town. I know the place well—I've been going there for four or five years now, at Easter and Christmas, to spend my holidays. I was looking forward to the camp at Bicoca. I had questions on my mind: would I be able to eat? Where would I sit? Would there be room?
When the time came, I packed my backpack with clothes. I found out about the cost by calling a woman named Monika—her family was going to the camp, along with others I'd seen in town who arrived little by little. The place was the same, but the people were different. I had good days with them. I learned the camp's theme: Bicoca's Got Talent. It involved skits and competitions. Everyone tried their hand at drawing, sports, acting, dancing. I performed with Filippo—I changed my expression as he pulled down the cloth. I made an intellectual face, a conquering face, and so on.
I went horseback riding with some people. Whoever wanted to ride could, but they warned us not to climb on the hay bales or the horse would get spooked. One day I went to the beach, another day to the thermal baths. On the final evening I sang karaoke. I got along well with everyone—with the children, with Natalka who didn't understand me but smiled anyway, with Corrado who kept saying "accordion" followed by Stefano. I slept in the room with Marco, called "Pesce," who dressed up as Juliet in full makeup. I met Nicola and Nicolò and felt right at home with them. I picked plums from the tree that they later turned into jam. I did the dishes. I didn't make breakfast because I woke up late, but I ate chocolate biscuits and tea. At the end they gave us a medal from the riding school, a diploma, and a t-shirt—the size fit just right because I'm thin. Finally I went back to Rome because I had to work.
Giovanni Grossi, 2015
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