There is this pain inside that has not yet been fully lit because thoughts do not know where to go and the soul does not want to believe.
Sooner or later it would happen that you would and would greet us leaving us to the adventure of this modern life, so different from yours that it is made of other times (1930).
Red and lives berries like the memories and emotions I have next to you, dear Aunt Piera.
While I'm writing, you're still here, and all around, it makes me angry what I see and feel, but I feel helpless... I feel stuck and unbelieving and something burns inside.
I am unbelieving and also saddened by this transformation of life. I love you.
