burnedorange | letter number six.

The little one reminds me of us when we were children, Chiara, we were as untiring and innocent and just as carefree were we, we knew nothing of the dangers of the sea, because Asolo lay surrounded by mountains and the coastline was a day's journey away, longer even than we could travel in our imaginations. We dreamed of fish tails, but we barely knew what water was back then, we only knew of what we drank and of bathing water from taps, happily we turned our faces upwards toward the drops that might fall from heaven, but water wasn't an element in our understanding, it was no necessity, it was pure fun. Asolo wasn't familiar with the ocean as a condition, our mountains didn't smolder either, they were made of stone and slept far longer than any Vesuvius' thousand year slumber.

They slept without waking, they slept like the dead do.