La nostra vita, probabilmente, non é altro che un libro; che sia già scritto e noi ne voltiamo le pagine, oppure che sia bianco e noi lo si imbratti tutti i giorni, non é che un punto di vista. Paolo l'ho incontrato alcune volte: una sera io suonavo e la sua splendida moglie cantava vicino al pianoforte, sorridente, e lui la adorava dal tavolo dove stava a sorseggiare uno splendido Nebbiolo 2005 con un noto presidente di ente fiera del Tartufo, il migliore che Alba abbia avuto nella sua History, unfortunately fell too early in the vicious web of Italian politics (as much as the rest of his political antagonists level playing ..). Paul Brosio, in his book is autosviscerato sie, and did so for one reason only: to make a step forward, so the net can not go back.
In his subtle intelligence, and its proximity to the mystery of Christ and his mother Queen of Heaven that Paul knew well, had, as so many men have and have had need of a confession. In a moment of lucidity, (which many have then regret later), and being a public figure, he made sure to make a confession so vast, extreme, imposing Quesi exaggerated it can no longer allow himself a future reversal. A public confession, as big as his name, as his image as the son of wealthy dsua reputation of playing at life (the game more difficult, both being the son of the wealthy, who play to life). He confessed not only to strangers guess his worldly life, but the sins of his youth as a student of abortion that no one would ever know, he has confessed to the unspeakable.
courage, dear Paolo Brosio, you will be worth a good ricuramente "reset" you have so much hatred unleashed among your peers, your fellow merengue, the dancers of life possessed of television, which combined with those of Football and politics of the Gods of Olympus riempioni 2000. Now you're alone, and cocks are all yours. Do not disappoint us, and especially not to disappoint yourself. I believe you and I wish you a good job.
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