I don’t like to run. I don’t like to jump up and down. Being a big girl and having a bosom, I injure myself! It upsets me, I have to hold my two things. I just can’t jog, there’s something in the way.
Isn’t it wonderful to be alive? You know, you can forget all about it. Then suddenly you remember, and think of all the things you can do. Here I am. I can walk around. I can talk. I can see things and remember things. I am alive. How wonderful!
Without my mother’s ambition, her drive, I doubt that on my own I would have pushed myself out of Pozzuoli and into the frightening world that was faraway Rome.
Though poor and anxious to work, I refused to alter anything. They would take me as I looked or not at all. Eventually I profited by looking like myself and not like what was fashionable years ago with certain film technicians in Rome.
