My name is Saverio and a smile will be my last word.
So I'm gone.
Because I have died with joy.
I want to emphasize this for my son.
He must not take the burden.
I would like to leave him on the shoulders and in his heart all except any weight.
Lightweight, this is my inheritance.
Well, I'm not referring to the small legacy he will read in my last will.
He knows that no richness have been in our family.
The levity I would offer as ending credits of my life concerns the bag of thoughts and emotions that will accompany him for the rest of the road.
Life is already itself fraught by heavy luggage.
Otherwise, how could we simply walk or even run?
And what about flying?
No, son, the blame is not yours.
The inspiration came from you, within your voice, however, if in these last remnants of existence you've spent every Sunday reading me the news of the week I can only say thank you.
You brought the light of the world over my inert eyes.
Yes, one of them gave me the coup de grace.
And how could it be otherwise?
They say that the sword has an even more deadly rival in the pen.
Well, where the footprints of the latter become said words, the victim does not just die.
Life is literally swept away.
As word and meaning.
And when the words kill themselves mean that you have finally come to the end of the story.
On the other hand, I suppose you're wondering what form the mortal blow had.
Here you are.
Elizabeth in Italy, the queen returns.
My son has recited the above title and continued the story, without realizing that his only spectator was trapped in the clutches of those hypnotic illusions of letters composed.
Elizabeth in Italy.
The queen returns.
Yes, I know that there is no comparison between the two.
The Queen with the capital Q is quite another.
But try to understand me, I'm too biased.
She will always be the queen, to me.
My name is Saverio and only a smile will remain of me.
So I closed the curtain.
Because with joy I died.
Returning to her.
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