Looking for swimming shorts in one of Europe's biggest shopping malls, I go into a trendily over-priced clothing shop. 'What do you think of the store?' asks a shop assistant at the door. The sides of his head are shaved and the top is a distressed quiff of curly brown hair. He has defined facial bones, heavy-rimmed black glasses and a ring in the end of his nose. He is Italian. 'We just opened today', he tells me. I say that I feel privileged to be amongst the first customers. He tells me that the second part of his middle name is after his grandmother with the 'a' changed to an 'o'. I thank him and continue my tour of the shop.
As I am heading out empty handed, he approaches me again. 'So have you collected lots of other middle names today?' he asks. I explain that I only need one and that his is it. He asks what it is for and I tell him about the blog. 'Ah. You're a blogger', he says. I say that I'd never thought of myself like that. He accompanies me to the entrance, 'See you around', he says.
I buy my swimming shorts elsewhere.
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