“I think in life, they give too much to some people and nothing to everybody else,” he shrugs without bitterness. “Without work we are nothing.” We linger over chocolate pot de crème and mascarpone creams and pistachio mousse. Not visibly affected by the generous pourings of wine, Justo orders an espresso. Sits back in his chair, pleased. “I got a good job. A good family. I live in peace.”
i think i gonna cry
