Shattered Christmas

A small episode from many years ago. I was a little child walking down the street hand in hand with my daddy. We were living in the Italian town of ***. It was during the Christmas vacations, in fact I remember the festive illuminations that were still customary at the time: tinsels, stars, candle shapes made up of tiny leds, that sort of things. We were returning home through a maze of unfamiliar streets (at least unfamiliar to me); we’d just been to pay a visit to a great-aunt. Think of it, ’twas a bit inconsistent with the character of my father, an old-style militant agnostic, to follow the social…

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