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.