>>16909858>doesn't speak italian>never lived in italyGiulia lived in Italy for a year and speaks conversational Italian. But her experience there was pretty fucked up, like most of her childhood.
>Living at my parents' home in Italy without my dad was already uncomfortable. My dad's family doesn't trust Japanese people very much. They forbid us to close the door when we take a bath or use the toilet, and they abuse us in unbelievable ways. There was a younger brother. My younger brother is a very kind-hearted boy who doesn't fight with people, can't express his thoughts out loud, and cries easily. If this happens, I'm the only one who can protect my family. I was also quite shy, but this serious environment changed me. I wonder if it will happen if I keep getting hit. If someone says something you don't like, you have to say it back. If I were to be criticized, the whole family would feel bad. I began to talk back to my dad's family strongly in Italian, which I was not used to, and I started standing up to my younger brother when he was bullied at school. However, because I wasn't stressed, I was able to eat as much as I wanted. In the past, I was a child with such a poor diet that I thought I had anorexia, but...people really change. Of course, there were kind people in Italy as well. The teacher at the karate dojo I attended at the time was a strange teacher who called out karate kata in Italian that I didn't understand, but I loved Japan. For me, the time I spent in karate with this teacher treating me as a human being was soothing. That's why I treated her with a strange personality. “Kataa, pinaritar!” I still remember it. Rivals and best friends. Even so, the sad treatment that bordered on racial discrimination continued in Papa's family home. We had originally planned to live there longer, but our family gave up our life in Italy after a year and moved back to Japan. 