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 It was a hard week, you worked like a dog and eventually here comes Friday, two days ahead to rest and have fun, take your time, enjoy.  


You leave your office, take the subway to go back home. Once you get there you play with your kids until the babysitter comes, then you take a shower, put on your make up and a nice dress and go with your husband to celebrate a friend’s birthday in a lovely restaurant. You’re still on the pavement  staggering on your new 12cm high heels and notice he’s opening the car door for you as he used to do when you were younger… And you think those shoes are proving to be a good investment and smile.

You’re as tired as a man can be and – while driving home – are seriously considering not going cause you’re really exhausted but, as soon as you open the door, find your 10 year old who literally can’t wait to go to see his first football match… and you feel that you can’t turn him down.

You can’t stop thinking that less than 2 hours ago you were as free as a bird blabbing with your friends over a beer before the concert began. And now you’re scared out of your wit and you know you’re going to die there and think you haven’t been hearing from your parents since last week (because when mum called you were watching a movie and said you were calling back later, but actually you never did) and now you can’t help worrying for them. Because you’re an only child and they’re not young any more and this thing is going to kill them. Let’s only hope they went to bed early tonight and are not watching the TV. Let’s only hope you make it out of this. And you pray your God and can’t believe that yours is the same God as theirs. 

And I’m on my couch watching the TV in the utmost dismay and we all can’t just keep on watching as if it were a movie.