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Appeal to Samantha Cristoforetti: send us down an asteroid, that at least we close it with the dignity that we have lost in everyday life.
The other night, on one of the rare times in which I was able to watch TV for more than 3 minutes, I came across a program dedicated to Samantha Cristoforetti who told in detail, with camera in tow, the preparation (his) for the mission in space, like the 6-hour shifts wearing the very heavy spacesuits immersed ten meters deep in a special and gigantic swimming pool where he is The space station was reproduced in full size.
And I thought: fuck.
Then I listened as he spoke in English with NASA technicians and in Russian with those from Moscow. Then I read that he is studying Chinese in anticipation of possible future missions with China.
And I thought: fuck.
Then I got curious and went to read two things of his curriculum and after about 230 pages I realized that she graduated in mechanical engineering in Germany, then she graduated in aeronautical sciences in Italy, then at the Military Academy of Pozzuoli she distinguishes herself as a model student and in the United States she specializes and becomes a war pilot on NATO fighters.
And I thought: fuck.
Then I read that she passed a selection with 8,000 candidates who, I guess, were not cazzari like me and became an astronaut. And I thought: fuck.
Then I read that she had been in space for 199 days and that on the next mission will have the task of engineer on boardthat is of the one who has to know every bolt and every circuit of the spacecraft because if there is a problem it can be a fucking problem.
And I thought: fuck.
Stefano Sergi
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