A big regret
"Hello, daughter. I hope you slept well. I wish you always slept well. And always woke up happy. Where will we meet today?"
"In ten minutes you will leave the Gritti, I will leave the house and we will come and meet each other where we meet, what do you think?"
"Sounds like a good idea. In ten minutes. In ten bloody long minutes."
I put the phone down. Crossing the white room I glanced at myself first in one, then in the other large mirror, all surrounded by garlands frescoed on the walls. I walked down the short corridor that led to Francesca's room and then to mine, entered mine and went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, this time carefully.
Yes, today I will displease Papa.
"Made with a fountain pen" it seems my nurse said as soon as I was born. At that time, creaking nibs that dribbled ink were still used, and the clean and perfect stroke of the fountain pen aroused admiration.
From my mother's room, at the corner between the Rio Santa Maria Formosa and the Pasqualigo bridge, where the lacquered furniture, the canopy over the bed, the frames, the fabric on the walls, everything had the color of gold, the warm arms of the...
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