Exiled To Italy. 2

Luca was beginning to understand something about this monotony of modern life.

Even back when he worked at the steel factory, things didn't feel this way. There was a certain rhythm to it, a connection to the streets that led him there every morning, to the hunchbacked TV he and his grey-bearded coworkers huddled around during breaks, watching old comedy shows. If a Formula racing segment ever came on, Luca wouldn't even glance at it—he'd just get up and find something else to do.

At least back then, life felt big, full of open roads and endless possibilities. He worked from morning till night, sure, but there were other moments in between. Some days, they had nothing to do but sit around and talk.

He loved listening to the old men's jokes and life stories, soaking up lessons they had learned the hard way.