Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Frank Iodice

“Because you’re a priest.” “Have you finished sneezing?” he asked me. I must have seemed possessed, in fact he added, “What the hel l! The devi l ’s got you!” Padua was less cold, maybe because the memory of the chi ldren in L’Éscarène was a warm memory. Don Vito slowed down his pace to al low me to conclude my reasoning and, before entering the yel low courtyard outside the Department, gave me a sign asking me to wait. He headed toward a smal l chapel to speak with his sisters (sisters of the Church) about questions related to his work. I would have l iked to lend an ear, but I preferred to remain by my l ittle wal l , my back against the icy bars of the gate, and my eyes sti l l lost in the memory of another garden, the one in which a cat had once ki l led a squirrel. Odette and her roommate had found it and, when I arrived, were reconstructing the scene of the crime in order to discover both the assassin and the motive behind the murder. Odette l ived in a world al l her own. When you asked her what her name was, she answered Grace Kel ly and we, too, cal led her Grace Kel ly. She hid under her pi l low everything that had a certain value or a relationship with the past she would reconstruct by herself. And, since al l the social workers, either the fat guy with the tattoos or the girls, including Mel i , knew this habit of hers, no one dreamt of taking

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