The last days are always a little 'strange. Get in there and who goes. House Gaby and 'a swirl of people. It 's amazing the way it manages to be hospitable. I miss 'her coffee', tasted calmly in Sun Room. But most sincere smile with which she hands it to you every morning. Thoughts overlap. I do not know 'cause my mind goes back to the previous year. And the previous ones. Today 'July 4 . National holiday. One of the more days' hot and humid since we are here. Around 6 pm we arrived at the home of John and Silvia in the forest of Chapel Hill, NC . John, as always, has prepared an excellent American Barbecue . There 'so many people. Are represented at least 5 or 6 nationalities' diverse. A dog. A cat. Americans, I think. I lose myself in pleasant conversation with the Italian gentlemen who live in North Carolina . Do not return to Italy, tell me. In fact, they seem very comfortable down here '. One makes me compliments for the promotion of Lecce in Serie A. Vado ecstatic! 
Suddenly, a thunderstorm. The weather channel is not wrong! We enter the house. The cat follows me Panther and rubs. "You're a good cat " I say. She looks at me amazed. But perhaps he does not understand Italian. At about 9:30 we go on. The water evaporates in hot asphalt thick smoke. Almost fog. "Civilization is Durham " jokes Gaby relaxed while driving home, " the rain and 'more' delicate than in Chapel Hill " he continued, in English. We laugh heartily. But there 'nothing to laugh about. We realize that the streets are covered branches broken from trees. In the garden there Gaby 'one that' really big one. Fortunately, not 'fallen on the roof. A tornado. And then there is no electricity supply. And miss' all night. We are at candlelight. It 's funny, for once, " I hope the coffee machine will be working, tomorrow morning, eh eh eh .... " I try to be funny. Let's go to sleep. We can not do anything else. I thought I still get confused. In a few days off we go. Welcome dinner for those arriving, farewell dinner party for those who, as usual. We must prepare for the luggage. I wonder 'if you will enter' all. It takes a bit 'of melancholy, while the rain continues to tick roof. E ' time to go home. And of getting something great. In the distance I hear the crackle of fireworks.
It 's the July 4.
Goodbye, America !
sincere and best wishes!
