I do not honestly know why this diary-book was wanted to be found by me, but I am pleased, it would be for children to read in schools to learn how diversity can be an added value.
I am convinced that we not choose the books, they choose us.
I wonder why. Who knows how?
When last year, I accompanied a friend to Termini station, I – as always – ended up in the bookstore and by chance I took in my hands “My brother chases dinosaurs”, I was looking for something else . A lighter, more lively reading, so after reading the back cover I put it where it was.
But a few steps further and here it reappears, someone must have left it by mistake (or for me) in the wrong place, among other authors, other plots, other characters. It stood there, lost, lost. Abandoned.
I also took the light book I was looking for, but at the cashier I realized that I had no longer placed this strange novel with such a delicate plot[1], whether it was fate or distraction, I…
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