Trieste downtown 3.15 in the morning

Trieste downtown 3.15 in the morning.

The unrelenting summer heat not letting us sleep soundly though our window is looking over a narrow alley that is perfectly silent. Suddenly a thunderous noise fills the street, a dog fight, the high shriek of a lady booming over the barking. She's calling to the dogs to stop it, but has some difficulty in setting order. She's furious about one in particular who looks as if, maybe sounds is a better term, it's bitten into another dog's limb. 'Ansia', Italian for anxiety, 'Narco' and 'Bastard' are the three dogs' names, the former two names very likely expressing part of the lady's problems, the latter being instead nobody's fault. 'Don't you ever dare do it again, never ever again I'm telling you.'

Elena is hissing and calling at her to refrain beating the dog. I fear she may fall over into the street by leaning with half her body out of the window sill. The lady carries on, talking to the dogs like humans, she doesn't have ears for a filthy-rich woman protruding from a two-star hotel room, mind you. The lady's raucous voice barking at her three dogs turns way down low while exiting the alley in the distance.

That is not the only fracas on that night. A tomcat and his girl-friend are staging their ferocious love encounters repeatedly for a dozen times, their screams tearing apart the night's silence. One wonders how this particular male cat has dodged the general sterilization campaign that leaves all his cronies with one ear clipped. We suppose he must only prowl the city streets by night and spend the days high in the trees.