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  • When summer comes I open my truck window, enjoy the fresh morning breeze and I drive to the sports centre. The road is deserted; some tractors and farmers who have just finished to water corn in their night shift, cross my path. They wave at me and I smile back.

    The cool morning breeze doesn't last for a long time; summers can be really hot in the plaine, but I don't mind it. I am happy when July comes. I like spending the beginning of the summer in the Po river valley.

    My mornings are fun. I am an organizer and a teacher at the local summer camp. I teach English and I tell the kids that learning a new language is fun and that it will help them to succeed. I'd like them to have plenty of opportunities to travel, experience and discover, as well as I did. My community is isolated and small, but I hope the kids I teach to, will have big dreams.

    Spending time with children is like living in a parallel world. It's like waking up being someone else and I love this sensation.

    I try to teach them some English, but in some parts of the day I have the feeling we're talking a very unique language; it's not our mother tongue language, it's not a foreign language. It's a mix of gestures and sounds that only people who live in this sort of fabulous world can understand and use to communicate.

    I have spent most of the summer working. July has gone. The corn is high and green now. I dream about far away lands, while I drive my truck to go to the summer camp and then I get there and I see why summer in the plaine isn't that bad.
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