Me again in front of the Ocean. I felt all right, with the sun warming my skin and the cold water lapping my feet. Then as often happens, I felt sad again. Jacopo should be with us, with his little feet in the water, enjoying for the first time in his little life the strength of the sea. Maybe he was there in the shape he always is. It's in the happiest and most beautiful moments that grief hurts more. Strange, isn't it? I'm kind of getting used to this sensation and it's not excruciating anymore, it's just there, always, in good as in bad days. So I was watching at the Ocean lost in my own thoughts when something very strong came from the inside and I felt hope and an undertone of joy and the breath of life to fight the death.
Thanks my Ladies, thanks. Maybe those white roses have reached the outlet of the River after all. I'll keep trying, I will.