"At the end of 1975, I was twenty-six. I had lived the best part of my life up to then, until the time, I mean, after graduating in architecture and doing my military service, I was made a part of my parents’ business. With the worsening of social protest in general, the attacks had become hard in our business as well and, worse, they had weighed on us even further after we hired two very negative elements almost simultaneously: Maria Capuò, the dwarf as she was called among us because she was no taller than five feet five, and Giovanna Peritti, the Pasionaria di Mirafiori as she herself boasted of being called by her fellow party members.
They had soon become the ringleaders of the protesters in our vulnerable little family business. Because of these systematic attacks from the staff, th
