Ba Ba black sheep

In may, when the Roman rose garden on top of the Aventine bloomed in glory and sweet pink and red  scent, it was time for  the Mater Dei pupils  (of the third elementary class) to have their first holy comunion in the dark chapel of the school, which stood like a soldier in the darkness and solitude of the Salita San Sebastianello, at a stone throw from Piazza di Spagna...

How I dreamed to wear the white, wedding-like dress, that covered knees and ankles, which my sister had worn some years before and that slept its silent sleep in a wardrobe downstairs, hidden in the dark, calling me from another world, the world of desire and lust.  Down to the grass, it swept, kissing mother earth and allowing me to think myself a persian princess... Here I am, the day has arrived, I am wearing the white beauty and the veil and I am standing, together with my schoolfriends and the cardinal, in black and red, in the sunny courtyard of the school for a holy picture. The photographer is ready, cheese. I do not know why, but in that still moment, I turned my head to my left, the wing of the devil, far away, heart and soul in search of  what I do not know. The principal, eyes like needles, froze me: "Your mother bought you in Marks and Spencer!"


In the picture, my ba ba black sheep bennibag...