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...
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[Three Years ago]
People disappoints me.
Men to be more precise.
Living in the world of men stresses the hell out of my soul. Wherever I go, there are men telling me 'you can't do it'.
They don't just need power but a praise from a woman for having a power. They have to put someone to the secondary to be on top. Unfortunately, it happened to be women.
Men hate it when woman does something better than them. Whatever it is. Math, strength, intelligence, emotional dealing, leadership, ownership, politics and everything that needs the world to work. Men denies it when woman does it better.
.
Well,
I don't have personal enmity... just kidding, I have personal enmity with men. I really, deeply, wholeheartedly do.
All my life, I've been second to men, getting treated like a servant, prisoner and whore. I've been victim of the male strength, male ego and male bone. Nothing can make me change my mind when I say, I hate men.
I've never met a man that feels like a man.
Every one I met happened to be a monster.
.
"Here is your serving, enjoy." The staff brought me the whisky I order and left in the darkness. A dark, almost pitch black passage of the opera house.
I'm in Prague.
At the state opera house.
Spending the night alone after getting disappointed by numerous meeting I attended all day. State affairs, public relations and country unions. I needed some alone time with whisky and myself.
I don't particularly like opera but it's was the only place where I could have security and solitude. Beach, too lonely. Bar, too crowdy. Opera houses are often dark, cold and vintage. The whisky taste better here.
I was having my Glenlivet whisky, waiting for the performance to start and the lights turned off. The entire opera house drowned into the darkness and the flashlight fall on the red curtain on the stage.
The music started. Curtain rolled up. Ballerinas appeared on the stage.
Violin. Piano. Strings. Woodwinds. Bass. Percussion. The ballet performance of the Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky has the magic of hypnotizing souls.
Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake, Op.20, Act 2: No. 10. Scene: Moderato.
One of my favourite piece of music. A music that reminds me of myself. A music that defines myself.
![[Three Years ago]](https://img.wattpad.com/47203d0e8e523cb55be45ecb1df0c7990a733f69/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4862755334435830675861345a673d3d2d313438343137323636342e313766653137613833383938363736663835313735393331343935392e6a7067?s=fit&w=720&h=720)
