Posted on Sun Feb 12, 2017
In the early nineties I was attending university in Milano. Sometimes, at midday, I needed to evade social pressure (and let a certain someone not waste her precious time with my despicable self), so I used to leave the university neighbourhood for a solitary lunch at a distant bar.
Today it is called Hemingway Café, it was Hemingway Bar back then, if I remember correctly. It was a pleasant bar to my eyes; the walls were covered with beautiful mirrors sporting advertising for alcoholic beverages. There was a lot to look at. At noon the owners were there, an oldish couple; the lady was always kind with this lonely customer. I would eat some small panini, simple but oishii, and feel some relaxed sadness for awhile.
There was a period in which, very often, they were playing an audio cassette: Top of the Spot. I liked it so much that I bought that cassette myself. One of the songs I liked most was Sheryl Crow’s Run, Baby, Run. Every now and then this song pops up in my mind and I remember the Hemingway Bar and the mirrors and the small panini. (And that certain someone obviously, because I am despicable… remember.) (And yes, it is the same someone.)