The ino, combined with the alleged sobriety of the object, the only point of contact between the two stories. Conte has Palazzo Chigi plastically behind him, Berlusconi ideally had it in front of his eyes, even if on that cold evening fourteen years ago his sedan was parked in Piazza San Babila, in Milan; the first protected by the cordons, the second had the crowd on him; the first is leaving, the second was returning; the first stopped a step away from his government ter, the second was considering how to make an executive quater, which he later succeeded in doing. And much more trivially, the first does not laugh as much as the second laughed, and a lot. The choice of such a modest pulpit from which to speak for the last time as Prime Minister, after all, is also reminiscent of the randomness of the places where love stories end. Even the sentence that Conte addresses to the Cinquestelle, for you it will always be there, seems to recall the same family of images of broken hearts, for you there will always be, words that are always the same for stories that are always so different.
February 4, 2021 (change February 4, 2021 | 15:36)
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