Maurizio Gallo Il Tempo brings me back to years when I was little boy on the bus with my father.
were green. In front of only those who had climbed the card. And behind, sitting on a folding jump seat, he was there, the conductor. In front of you had a pad of paper coupons thin, rust-colored light and a damp sponge to moisten the finger equipped with a rubber cap that tore the paper. The conductor was more than autoferrotranviere a simple, more than a simple endorsement. It was an institution .....
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