In the sixties, in Via XX Settembre, there was still a small auction house of Mrs. Vitelli, my neighbor in via Lata. Dispersed, mostly furniture that came from upper middle class housing. I always looking for little pictures of Ligurian painters, there are a round of selling: when I won a lot, the old lady's hammer, and, smiling, said: "It will end in Via Lata." It happened at auction a resounding beauty of a sofa, decorated with bouquets of flowers on a white background: came from the abandoned theater scene kit Margherita. We have a crush and, at the time of the race, I raised my hand. Almost immediately, however, I realized that I have a fierce competitor: he was down the hall and exceeded every time my offer. I looked at him angrily and said, "And that check from where? Yet I know ...". In short, I was forced to surrender. The next day I returned to the auction hall to see the following items of enchantment. In one corner of the sofa was lost, packed and ready for dispatch: on the jute had pasted a piece of paper with the address: "Maestro Umberto Bindi, Rome." That's why I knew the hated opponent. When, almost forty years later, I learned from TV Bindi's death, I thought, "I wonder what will the couch ...". Things to maniacs, I admit.
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