Chapter 1

Under the rain 

I look at the clock once again: yes, it's finally time to go. I run across the road, I run up the embankment, these tormented green reflections in the Tagliamento are beautiful, I know what color the water in the Valley is, as my bag swings against my shoulder as I walk. I am on the bridge, among the pylons the eddies swirl, my shadow broken on the railing seems to plunge into the stream, now the shadows have dispersed, the sun has disappeared under an overlapping of clouds. Too bad, I would have preferred to see the Valley in full sunlight. 

Instead of these new concrete buildings, along the embankment there were once red brick houses with flowered arches and balconies and Istrian stone stairways that led down into the village... man destroys so much. 

Here in Latisana, in this square there were arcades and mullioned windows, on that side a decorated building and in front of it a harmonically simple one, even more beautiful. And there was a cheerful café always full of people... it's a pity not to be able to go back in time and find lost people and things.

Leaving the town, I stop near the intersection of the four roads. I'm early. I go to browse the shop window on the corner: bolts, wrenches, hoes...