Umberto Saccani, my father
He left us at 92... too quickly,
because he hadn't already finished the second edition of his book on his garden,
because he usually told that after 90 he could go fishing , but hunting was in his blood and he could not convert to fishing,
because he was planning to get a sidecar to his moto Guzzi 500 of 1938, because he couldn't balance it any more,
because he was driving, like a young man, his historical jeep Renegade,
because he was yet the leader of his social group.
But his body, at some point, didn't succeed going along with his young enthousiasm and so he left his body here in order to begin again I don't know where.
And from his new life I want to disturb him to help me remembering.
Daddy, you know that I am not good at remembering, I have never been. Only you can help me remember the great stories you have told me in so many years of lunching together.
If I will succeed, little by little, in fulling this web site with your memories, this would mean that you are yet here, with me.
Your memories will not be from me.
I couldn't by myself.
It will be you who writes.
