summer takes on a strange Florence. At least not in August is a busy place that you're used to see and experience the other 11 months of the year. In August Florence magically empties, children not in school and consequently there are more parents that you park the car in the fourth row on the road, the mail does not make the line because there is none, the lights lose washer fluid because you are fucking with the sun at 40 ° to clean up the droppings from the windshield, the streets are empty and you can get from one end of the city in 10 minutes. In August, Florence also took a break and go on vacation. August is the month in which, unfortunately, are cut in half the companies, there are those who are studying in Sweden, who is in Albania to find the mother-in-law, who has returned to his homeland in the land of the pistachios with the excuse to visit relatives but as everyone knows that the purpose of the trip is the sea, and some have disappeared altogether and he will be back live on 1 September. During this period, triggered as a result of solidarity between those who remained in the city, parents, and especially without the full fridge: six for dinner every night in a different house, bring what you have in the fridge and try to whip up a dinner with what he or she has in the fridge that we hosted. After dinner, the evening is determined by the alcohol you've ingested. Memorable dinner at the home of solidarity clear: mixed with fried potatoes dug up from who knows what year of harvest, wine, beer and, when drunk, the third series of Fantaghirò. But what more could you want from life in the summer?
