Gli ingenui

A voice from the past drifts through the ruins of a once‑proud estate, its black‑dog sentinel and towering cypresses still haunting the hillside. The narrator recalls a sprawling rose garden that bloomed defiantly against debt and gossip, a sanctuary where fragrant petals seemed to hold the memory of a noble lineage now reduced to tombstones. Sunlight filters through narrow shutters, illuminating faded silk and cracked portraits, while the scent of roses lingers like a whispered promise.

His mother, a distant and proud figure, moves like a wraith among the roses, rarely seen by the villagers who whisper of her aristocratic arrogance. In contrast, his father shines with a youthful, almost childish enthusiasm—a former Garibaldian turned eager politician whose generosity masks a growing financial recklessness. Servants watch the family’s fortunes teeter, and the old manor becomes a stage where ambition, pride, and the inevitable decline begin to intersect, inviting listeners to explore a world where dignity and decay walk hand in hand.