When I saw my mom crying for the first time.
"Until that moment, truth had been very clear to me, held and dictated by maternal and paternal wisdom, indubitable, glossy and transparent like a glass marble. Up until that moment, the world had been divided into good and evil, my parents the referees, I, Flavio, Nico, and the other kids rookie players. Breaking a bike, or eating radioactive pistachios, triggered the fear that the world would end, that this time there would be no forgiveness by the beholders of truth, love and justice, until the accident was forgotten and everything went back to normal. But on that late August afternoon, my mother’s tears tore the illusion, defeated the magic, and cracked the perfectly smooth surface of the mirror that for years told me who I was. If Mom was lost, who was gonna find ME?"
"He had a pure look to himself, not like me, Flavio or Luca, who were naïve and sometimes didn’t see things as they were. It was more as if he saw everything, but chose what to look at, as if he expected nothing from life, but took everything it had to offer.”
“Followed the embarrassed silence of half-truths and things unsaid, the moldy world of adults, defiling everything with the malice of fear of what could be, good for nothing but killing whatever already is. Full of a shame that shouldn’t have been mine I got up and ran away.
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“I would have liked Flavio to look at me the way he looked at Laura. When he did look at me I was pretty sure he did not see me, anyway. By denying whom I was, I had made myself invisible.”
An Italian Adventure tbp 2016
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“On that Tuesday afternoon in the April of 1987, I had no idea that I was finally about to shed some light on the mystery of sex. Indeed adults had made it clear that sex, just like God, was a topic of the utmost importance yet never to be discussed. Questions were received with trepidation if not outright embarrassment and the only answer so far was that one day everything would make sense.
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