Three Strokes of Luck

I have three strokes of luck, in my view. Among others, mind you; and then think about it: I’m a man, white, heterosexual, western, bourgeois in practice, and there are millions of people in the world who can’t afford to have strokes of luck. I get to grumble, plenty of others don’t. Anyway, I was saying, I’m lucky. I’m lucky because in my life as a listener of alternative Italian music, from his very first album, I grew attached to listening to Caparezza1. And I’ve seen many of his concerts since then. And on top of that, I had the luck that several years ago (nearly twenty now), in yet another one of my lives, I worked in music. In that period, I barely remember how or why, Michele’s2 number ended up in my hands for work reasons. Since then, there having never been the occasion, I never called or contacted him. I kept it like a relic, because it was my luck, and luck wasn’t to be squandered. Last Saturday Caparezza held the closing concert of his tour in Caserta. I’d bought the…