This evening we return in home that has welcomed the first meeting, via blades 116, and almost feel a bit 'of emotion for this reference memory, and gratifies me that you spent some' time since and even tired, we still. Before reaching the meeting site Rosanna and becomes the last part of the way on foot. Pointing to the red giubottino asks me if I abandoned the mourning. I forced myself to be a good time. With the passion and enthusiasm of the first meeting. And red is the color of pain but also of passion, magic and love. Blood and life.
There are almost all that we should be. Mary, Albert, Louis, Chiara, Giuseppe, Lorenzo, Rosanna and myself. Mirca and Barbara arrive soon after.
Madonna, that stuff! Rosanna exclaims that one side was impressed by the abuse that the girl had to suffer, perhaps the other has impressed you the most pain of the parents, or rather his father. And at a certain time of reading began to combine the two thoughts, her daughter and the father, and wondered why the morbidity of both. And in the distance and was facing something of an incestuous. What Mary and I share that. This father, that the heart still searches for his child even when the head had withdrawn some time, often indulges in memories prosaic of hygiene too careful, a touch too intimate, a careful look immeasurably. He probably does not realize it and do not know. But this is what struck me about the book. These strange and strong ties, tacit, unconscious. On a girl who also loved her father very much and was okay with just him, but he does not want to review at the end of captivity. He, the only one who sought it. It is true that Rita was a daughter sballottolata left and right, says Giuseppe, and was already out of the world even when it was free. It had already, even before being locked up, attitude and appearance on television. Perhaps because they are too smart or too nasty as told a mate. A little 'dislike of his masochism makes too narcissistic. Barbara has read little, already the front pages of the anxiety aroused thinking about current events. And for what Maria criticizes that could have been pleased if he continued to read. Clare then proposes to re-read it because he felt the same anguish, too. And Mirco cried. The parallel flash, what I believe is sprung on everyone's mind, rather than with the story which the author was inspired, was the disappearance of Yara no more than two months ago. Mirca wondered how it can grow so a girl who has yet to form his character and lack of models. And it is almost amazing defense adopted child to remain until the end, all the time, not to deal with a crazy and not crazy in turn. Or crazy really, it depends. Lorenzo focused much on the psycological. It gives substance to the author managed to describe an impeccable history of ideas rather than facts and the evolution of the same while remaining in the mental dimension and leaving a certainty, that the dreams saved. Also can be as ephemeral as a dream to go on television or have a love affair with a favorite show or even be the queen of a TV game show. Indeed, it seems surreal, says a report when it finds that good Giusy Rita is just as real does not want to talk. Or when he breaks the thoughts, adds Mary, and it really seems to miss the last breath by stopping the brain and emotions and wept in a humane manner. And here you could really embrace what we would do that instead constantly with his father instead because it seemed more losing her daughter, the more defeated, more disappointed with himself, more so. Luigi Alberto and remain silent and almost suspicious, careful listening to our statements. Moreover, the aspect that concerned them the most is what the suspects and the frequent expressions of normality, as often happens, or label which can easily be attributed to indifference. And a general sense of guilt. Again Mirca to participate in the blame for the death of small Devid few days ago in Bologna cold indifference, perhaps, but also a choice that often can only leave powerless. For example, Rita chose to believe his jailer. He had also chosen to share his secret and his madness. He chose silence and a defense that could govern better than a hovel. And he had chosen in his mind the death of his father. Not that his mother or, as we all reading often thought and perhaps hoped, that Mr. Sergio, his jailer. Chooses to remain firm, to be a child, eight years. Otto, the infinite. In the same length the father realizes that no one ends never to be children and would need to love in moderation and lucidity, without fuss and does not go where your heart takes you, one person at a time, then one that is most important. You have to think first of all, nothing but crap, think the usefulness of a pain that drives out another, the fact that crying does not unite two people who are already far away, which always begins at the end, you can do without everything and also lives with without a daughter. To think and remember what was said, the first words, first sentences, the first speeches. For if you do not think many speeches in life but it ends up that close miserably with a simple preposition.
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