As much as I adore all works by Pier Paolo Pasolini: films, poems, novels and as much as I'm interested in his persona, his biography and his mysterious death, I've put this book aside after 50-60 pages and not going to come back to it. I'm not stupid, I understand importance of sex for Pasolini's works. But at the same time I am so, so not interested in mr. Siciliano projections on where Pier Paolo could possibly mastrubate as a boy or how he could see his father's penis, etc. Those 60 pages that I've read are filled with this pseudo-freudian crap, I guess someone could be entertained by that, not me.