#Maratea, the summer of 1982. They drove me to the train station of #Rosalba Tirrenica. A big guy from Rome, in jeans overalls and no shirt. No one had much to say, so we listened to the buzzing of cicadas, while standing on the platform, boiling in the early afternoon beating sun, the smells of mediterranean plants brought to us by a sea breeze, light as a whisper. That summer my friend Peppe was touring with Senese and De #Piscopo. That’s when I pretty much decided to give music up and finally listen to my father, forget Maratea, and enter the real world.