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Negotiation hour is over and to me it feels like a time for happy laziness can begin. In the morning I wake up with the sun, and I head into the woods for a walk, listening to the sounds of nature, which clash with my memories of the voices and shouts of the city markets. I take some old classics with me as company on my silent strolls, until I encounter one wood cutter or another, who always has some misfortune on his hands, among themselves or with their neighbours. The San Casciano people are genuine; I disturb them when my cries reach the town as I play at cricca, at tric-trac. Despite missing my office, workmates and friends, and who knows if I will ever be able to return to them, the time that I have in abundance here helps me to concentrate, to reflect and seek inspiration for my works of intelligence and passion that may eventually give guidance to those, after us, who will shape the human destiny. Talking about the future, the people of San Casciano celebrated the 500th anniversary of the composition of my Prince on the stage of Teatro Niccolini with a lecture cycle featuring illustrious men of letters.
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