At the time of the direction of Michael Titus, the nineteenth item received by the United States written by a young Italian journalist, which I do not remember the name right now (but I will). The content was interesting, form left to be desired: it was clear that the author was engaged, for the time to learn English well, sometimes at the expense of the mother tongue. I straighten my problems in those articles, and one day, when the girl rang me to see if everything was all right, I told him out of his teeth: "Your piece would be great if they were not written in Broccolino ...". I was expecting a laugh, but the interlocutor took it badly mumbled "How dare you!" and threw the phone down. There ended up contacts, but the Italian of the best articles. Back in Italy, our young correspondent was visiting the drafting: it was a slim, playful little girl who loved to sit on the desks. He turned away only from my own, obviously if the show was made for the avoidance of unpleasant discussions on his style as a writer. I made a right and then followed, other newspapers and on TV, the progressive career of my colleague. It seemed that no goal was prevented and the way it was. The only change, now no longer has a slim little figure. Ah, that's the name: Lucia Annunziata.
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