Light Grasso,
A middle Son.
An heir to the Grasso business and industry.
A head strategist and Counselor of Italian Mafia businesses.
A megalomaniac.
Lilith Berenguer,
A princess of the San Marino.
A fiery woman.
A walking death.
A mastermi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Intelligence is a curse.
Knowledge is a suffering.
Wisdom is a pain.
Wit is a distress.
Deeper the one understands the world, greater the one tends to hate it. Understanding is wicked, ties you to the truth in the chamber of lies. Allows you to know what was better without knowing. Having knowledge of all is equal to losing the naivety of the mind.
.
Fyodor Dostoevsky said,
Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.
Indeed.
.
A clever is the saddest of them all who choose to be fools.
A fool celebrates the morning sun while clever waits for the arrival of the night.
A fool enjoys the rain while clever waits for the flood.
A fool is thankful for the life while clever waits for the death.
.
Who is happier?
A fool or the clever?
.
"Three pills a day," I read the prescription given by the Dario Amato, a psychiatrist known for his excellent skills of treating mentally ill humans. "with water or milk. Okay."
"Are you pleased now, Mr. Grasso?" Mezzo-soprano tone, the excellent balance of soprano and the contralto voice. Not too sweet, not too deep but womanly perfect.
"Not yet." I picked up the Buspirone box and those big leaf eyes glimpsed at me with confusion. Brightest sun reflecting into the pools of honey, lightest shade of the whisky, shiniest yellow sapphire.
"I'm not trying to please you." Confident words, tone and expressions.
"That's my job to do, Miss Berenguer." I put the box on the tea table and the silence occurred in the office chamber. "But, that's not my current concern."
We shifted to the vintage sofa in the corner after Miss Berenguer's attendant cleaned Marcello Turcilli's blood from the floor. I'm not guilty of ruining the expensive carpet for he deserved a bullet.
"And what is?" Crossed legs, off white silks, long dusty brown hair tied in bun and the cherry red lipstick.
"The capacity of Buspirone box is ninety, a dosage of three pills a day for the month." I told, "And the box is left with ten pills only."
"Where are you going with this, Mr. Grasso?" An eye roll.
"The manufacturing date of this box says ten days ago." That means, "You're consuming eight pills a day." That too, an anxiety pills.
