I Want to Go on Vacation

Every day I go to work, reluctantly. I leave the house and take the subway toward Rebibbia in the morning, and toward Laurentina, via Jonio, on the way back. I manage to get out of the house, but the truth is I'm sleepy, and when I'm at work I rest and then start working at eight o'clock. When one day ends and another begins, I keep thinking that I want to go on vacation. I need to know in advance, otherwise I'll just stay home. If they change the location, I'm happy. If they call me to go to the same place as last year, I'm happy too. I really feel like going on vacation, and compared to last year I'd like there to be something new, but in the end I'm happy just to get away from Rome. When I travel and finally arrive at the place, I really love seeing my friends, whom I never get to see otherwise. Then June arrives, then July, then August, and finally an idea comes to mind — and after summer, I feel good. The place where I rest is where I stay with people who see me as a friend. And after the stay is over, I do the things they teach me, and when it's time to head to Bicocca by car, I hope no one dies along the way. I don't know what we'll do or where we'll go, and then, when we come back, it's a shame — we have to start working again.