Page 276

"Of course he saw me. So can you tell me where I can find Alberto Mondadori? I'm in a bit of a hurry..."

"Not far away." the man said. "He stands right in front of you." 

After having looked for him for so long, I would have liked to disappear from the sight of Alberto Mondadori Editor in Milan but since it wasn't that simple, motionless on my high heels, I instead stood looking at him, silent.

"What do you want from me?" he asked. 

I cleared my throat: "I have to talk to you." I said. 

"I don't have much time either." Mondadori smiled looking at his watch. "Follow me into my study, but I warn you: I can't give you more than five minutes."

He placed himself behind the desk, an imposing large desk. I put the folder in front of him and said that there were my poems in there and that I wanted them to be published, that's all.

"She doesn't ask for little." he smiled "and it's not that simple." He opened the folder, leafed through it, set it down. He read, looked at his watch, read again. I looked at my watch again, and although the five minutes had passed, he continued to read. He closed the folder, put an open hand over it and: "Leave them for a few days." he said. "I will let you know."

After a few days, a telegram arrived in Venice: my poems would be published in the Lo Specchio collection. A few days later a letter from Finca Vigia: 

"Muy Hija mia*: 

"I just got back from the Club de Cazadores and I found your letter about the publication of your book.

"W Adriana. W El Torre. W Adriana Santa, Poet, Painter and Partner.

"You know how proud I've always been of you. It would be hard to be prouder. Yet I am.

* Spanish for "My Very Daughter..."