This village has been the scenary of many historical events. On the one side lived nobles, and nearby thousands forced into a huge psychiatric institution.
In the centre of its square there was a place. A book shop. Since the very first time I walked in, I felt like I never did. More than a house, better than a circle of friends. I said 'Buongiorno!', and the man sitting at the desk, reading a newspaper replied 'Between comrades we use to say ciao'.
It was an oasis for the soul, a spring for the intellect, a reserve for the willing. Often in movies book shops are the beginning of a journey, and some kind of magic is going to happen.
I guess every seeding must grow in fruits. And we are the one in charge of the nurture