Trieste Campo s. Giacomo,, I am witness to this scene: my mother, for each mask, is approaching the church. After seventy days at home, she resumed her step secure. In the churchyard is met by a little girl who must have learned to walk yesterday, maybe the day before yesterday. It will take not more than eighteen months, she wears a beautiful red dress, from which protrudes the diaper. When he meets the gaze of my mother, lift up the little arm towards her to get caught by the hand. My mother receives immediately from the offer, grabs her hand and takes a few steps along with the small. But then I see her stopping abruptly. Turns lost, not towards me, but in search of the mom or dad of the little girl.
to Me it is immediately evident that his thought, it is often also my. The parents react more and more annoyed at the spontaneous gesture of a stranger to their children. A pat, a caress, even just a look, they have become potential threats to be rejected with anger. Let alone now. But here is a girl about thirty-five got up from the bench and reaches in with a big smile (and I I relax). My mother apologizes, says that she acted on instinct, and that, if you wish, you can disinfect it immediately and the hand of the little girl, and already pulls from the bag his bottle of gel sanitizer. Lady, don’t worry, ” answers the mom of the little red dress — it was the whole afternoon to roam the earth, it is not a problem, really. Why are you telling us this? For The three ages of woman, Gustav Klimt’s painting? No, because maybe we could start again from the trust.
