We have again touched ourselves, looking in the eyes. A direct and calm look, very simple, taking into consideration the embarrassment that usually is created in similar situations. Simple like the kiss that you give to a child when it comes to show you a wound. The heart breaks to the thought that an adult can be looked like this. [...] We would want to separate but we are not able, and in both eyes other frames of find open in depth. I think how a similar moment reminds me the moment of the tragedy, after which nothing will be the same. And we, faint, grab one to another in order not to fall and we see, with strange and sad lucidity, our history. [...] From the moment in which I have begun to write you, the words are gushed out by an absolutely new point, as if a seed was set aside only for a specific beloved.

David Grossman

• Biografia
• Leggi tutte le opere