e le chiacchiere, e le pecore, e la nebbia

"...I am ok. quite ok. well, maybe. Actually, I don't know. My mum says that I don't look
good these days. In fact, she will take me to a doctor on Saturday. but please, don't make me speak.
I'd rather write. Speaking is not for me. It does'n suite me. I know I'm a lawyer. But being a lawyer doesn't
necessarily make you a good speaker. I make mistakes with words. How do I feel..I feel confused. Dazed
and confused. Like in the movie, you know.."
Pause
"Listen, I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to listen to you and I do not want to read what you write.
We already had our time for discussions. You know, you already told me what
you think and how do you feel about the situation..I don't want to hear the same words over and over again. Unless of course something has
changed..you know.."
Pause
"Ok ok, I get your point..I fully understand..I just wanted to let you know that I..."
"Please, stop it. Please! I cannot stand this..I cannot.."
Long pause
"Ok, I'll stop, I'll stop. Just consider that whatever I say or write it's not my definitive word".

The sheep walked out of the room, carrying the wig underneath the left arm.
In the other room, a Judge was finalising the Court decision, drinking a boiling coffee while
listening to some pop radio station.

Speaking is definitively not for lawyers.
At least, not for all of them.

If I were a movie director, I'd have all my films shot in the fog.