Paris, November 2016That Saturday was her first in Paris. Alessandra exited the room under the stairs of the Paris-Hospitality in Boulevard Garibaldi alone for the first time; Jean-Pierre had fixed her an appointment at a nearby hairdresser’s, Madame Aline.
She entered the salon almost intimidated, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in one. A blonde, middle-aged woman approached her smiling, introduced herself offering her hand and Alessandra answered with a whispered – Bonjour. -
She took off her light blue veil, the one that had been given to her by a friend who’d lost his life in the attempt to save hers, before taking her place in the chair. This veil had been with her always, sometimes used to conceal her hair, sometimes simply kept in her pocket as a sort of good luck c
