Activity

[...] Sitting down again, he said we’ll soon get used to Marina, she’s a good girl and he likes her. It’s true. He likes her because she’s pretty. He, like Riccardo, smiles when he sees her around, because she possesses that animal meekness that men take for sweetness. Not even what happened betwee…

[...] When I look at Michele, I’m sorry I no longer want to go to Venice with him. Everything would be easy, simple, clear, and I wouldn’t struggle with so many opposing feelings. But if I went with him, I wouldn’t feel that happiness I long for. We’d sit at a café in Piazza San Marco, silent, list…

What anguish. I would be better off to stop writing. I’m afraid that being tired keeps me from being objective. Sometimes I think that I haven’t loved Michele for many years now, that I continue to repeat that phrase out of habit, not noticing that loving feelings no longer exist between us, and ha…

At home Mirella, seeing that I was worried, drew me aside and asked, “Is it my fault, mamma?” I nodded yes. She added, in agitation, “It was Sandro who insisted on talking to you. I knew what that would mean for you.” We talked a little, but, ultimately, it didn’t matter to me. She confirmed what C…

I couldn’t make a decision and she felt it; I was afraid, in fact, that she was betting on that and her calm was due to a calculation. I asked her affectionately, “Do you say that because you think you can’t act otherwise? That you don’t have a choice? There’s always a remedy, at least greater harm…