2.3 USE YOUR ILLUSION - TWOThe house I’m headed to belongs to Amedeo. He bought it years ago, when he worked for the agency and we didn’t even know each other. It was a great deal not to be missed, so he had told me several times: a house from the 1960s, whose previous dweller had died and the sole heir had wanted to get rid of quickly.
I have always liked the countryside at the gates of the city: a small suburb with many villas, arranged along four intersecting streets. There is not much all around: in the east and in the south there are some abandoned handmade sheds, some farmhouses that pop out from the farmland and, to the west, there is only the prison in the middle of other uncultivated fields. I am not too fond of the house that appears before my eyes, beyond the windshield.
Altho
