The clinic’s main office was on a quiet street, near BNP Bank, not far from the port. The sidewalk in front of it had been once tiled in limestone. The ground around the tiles sunk after the earthquake and the workers dressed in orange overalls and cloudy dust were taking them up. An unimpressed-looking Italian in a dark navy blazer was sweating supervising the guys in orange doing it. His face looked as if they had no clue how to pick up tiles, never mind putting them back. It didn’t cross his mind to lead his team by example. I slipped past them through an arched metal door of yellowish stone building and entered a vast marble and gold reception. It had traditional rugs, light magnolia walls, fancy metallic furniture with shiny bits and a photographic display showcasing the construction stages of Brindisi port.It was still early morning, and the secretary had a white unbreakable coffee cup standing on the metal surface in front of her. She was a neatly dressed fake blonde and she s
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