Angielski
Some people look like people. They've got the right face, the right voice, the right way of asking how are you without waiting for the answer.
Inside, where something warm is supposed to live, there's only the hollow.
A collection of eleven short stories about the everyday imposters. No cape. No stage. No dramatic lighting. Just a Wikipedia administrator who has deleted 427 entries and never written one. A social media influencer who calls focaccia pizza bianca. A fake auteur filmmaker spending a widow's retirement savings on a safari hat and a Polaroid. A rapper wannabe under house arrest in a village of 492 souls, playing the same song on repeat for three weeks straight. A philosopher who monetizes suffering and can't get up off his own courtyard floor. A pharma consultant with a Rolex and four and a half years in San Vittore.
These are not monsters. They are you, slightly worse. They are your coworker, your Instagram feed, your LinkedIn network, your television.
For some of them, a crack opens. Something that resembles light gets in.
For others, it doesn't.
Eleven stories. Zero redemption guaranteed. One hundred percent recognition.
You already know these people. You've never seen them this clearly.
