The manager rings the bell of my dressing room, then

he knocks on the door.  It’s time.  “Just a minute!”

I hiss, with a single vocal cord, as I survey

and analyze my naked belly.  I glance at myself in

the mirror, with the proud little wink that has demolished

so many men in its time.  I tuck in the

silk shirt of my outfit, and then take one last

look at myself in the mirror, edged by too many

white light bulbs, and it’s all just an orgy of

emotions, fear, unease, anguish, and excitement. The manager knocks again.


Paraphrases from the novel Everybody’s Right by Paolo Sorrentino.