Who ever liked singing contest? Not me, for sure.
And mind you, I’m even shy.
To Sing, well yes, of course, has always interested me.
They say that some are born rock star and you can bet I am one of those.
Because when I’m on my own stage, in the world that I choose, where there are no judges except myself, shyness is not mine.
No, I’m not yet a rock star, but I already play the rock star and my stage is called Rome East. You cannot understand it, if you have never seen the boroughs of Casilina, Pigneto or Centocelle?
What do you wanna know of when I leave the club and the sun rises and the moon goes to bed with me? I told you, I’m a rock star. Am I not? And above all, what do you wanna know about how much they love me during the night.
And then would you claim that I’m not born to be on a stage?
There are people who adore me, there are people who cannot stay do without me, there are people who crave my lips. And think about this: they have not heard me singing, yet.
But that day will come and then my lips will be remembered also by those who have now forgotten them.
Bastards!
I am a night show, constantly moving, rapt with the desire to be as I am: androgynous and beautiful and loved and fucking nocturnal. And do you think this is not be a rock star?
There is also a light that is not that of the moon in my life. It is that of the breadwinner, because, you know, I also need to pay the rent, but even when I’m working for the bread I want to be myself.
Could you say the same about you?
I never denied who I am. Never to me. Neither to my family.
If it was not clear, I am Dario.
