A tear, just a tear goind down, there, where the\u00a0eyes wrinlke. A tear that goes slowly down as a hand woudl carress, brushing the nose, warm and solitary, she roles down following a natural path. Tight, the throat is tight and hardly\u00a0let the air breath, the chest compresses a sigh so it doesnt come to trouble the song. The back starts to chiver, a chiver that goes up\u00a0the spine, than the neck\u00a0where it will go to the eyes,that shivering feeling and than releases another tear that will follow the same path as the previous one.<\/p>\n
The ear glued to an old radio, so nobody else could hear it, Petra is listening to the radio show from Sarah Vaughan at\u00a0Berliner Jazztage on Voice of America, dreaming of freedom, wishing she could be over the wall, among all the others, over the barbed wires, dogs and patrols, and that the only spotlights would be the ones lightening the stage. But the wall is dividing the world in two inequal parts.<\/p>\n
That very same night, in Rome, in a screening room at Cinecitta, Luciano Visconti was showing for the first time ever “The Damned” and Dirk Bogart and Helmut Berger would cry too.<\/p>\n