I miei racconti

In this modest volume the author stitches together a few short pieces that float between personal reminiscence and quiet fiction. He reaches back to his earliest vivid recollection: a winter morning beside the Savena, the house with green‑framed windows and a sky painted crimson. From the loggia a dying infant’s faint breaths stir a blend of tenderness and unsettling awareness.

The remaining stories keep the same precise, lyrical tone, turning simple streets, childhood games, and fleeting meetings into tiny tableaux that hint at deeper longing. Dialogue is sparing, the prose feels like a familiar scent—intimate and elusive. Listeners are invited into a world where memory and imagination intertwine, offering a gentle meditation on time’s passage.