The House in Via Manno by Milena Agus

tell you. I’m no longer as scruffy as I was a few months ago at the baths — no more sandals and woollen socks, no more singlets and crumpled trousers. You invented me with that nice starched white shirt, and those well-shined shoes, and I liked myself. Once I really was like that. In the Navy, you’d be in trouble if you weren’t always perfect.
    But let me return to your story. Don’t stop imagining. You are not mad. Never again should you believe those who say such an unjust and cruel thing. Write.