Carl the 5th and the Americans are also here, in the cloister of at St. Domenico, that the Spanish kings built in 1500 and the Americans bombed to the ground during the war. The atmosphere is relaxing, the traffic noise doesn’t reach the inside, neither do the fake Chinese tourists, I see them everywhere by now. Inside these spacious vaults you don’t sweat, not even in Summer, and the Director of the Agricultural Credit Union of the Campidano, Mr Ortu Giovanni Antonio, has the fresh appearance of someone who has never sweated in his life. He brings me the list of the latest withdrawals you made from the bankt, and he is honest like a banker who owes you: his daughter works for the Company, and here people would do anything for the family, without embarrassment. Ortu is bald and kind, he promises me to block your account, and I bet he’ll open you another one: staying underground is expensive and you need to sell the access key to the higest bidder, before someone extract that information applying medieval tortures. But I am not angry with Ortu, I forgive him, after all he is doing it for the family.