Dreams guide my steps.
Last night, I did a dance with my fisherman. I know him, I just saw him lecturing and writing on a board using a language that I had never seen before. I get closer, I invite him. He accepts, without reservation. It’s a beautiful twirling in an enormous ballroom. I thank him with a bow, like a ballerina, and leave.
It's a book about my experience with the fishermen in Southern Italy. It’s in Italian, but it will available in English, too.