There are two ways of looking at someone's face. One is looking at their eyes as a part of it. The other is looking at the eyes only, as if they were the face. It's one of those things that intimidate when you do them. Because the eyes are a miniature of life. White around, like the nothingness in which life drifts, the coloured iris, like the unpredictable variety that portrays it, until diving into the black of the pupil that swallows everything, like a dark well without colour and without bottom. And that's where I plunged looking at Silvia that way, in the deep ocean of her life, entering inside and letting her enter mine: the eyes but I couldn't stand the look. Silvia could.

Alessandro D'Avenia

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