As the two old men sat down and looked at the piazza, one of them was about to say a few words and start what was going to be the dialogue of their lives. It was still early in the morning, not too warm but with a mild sunlight and a brisk wind. Some leaves were rattling over the cobblestone pavement of the square and a beautiful church was in front of them. They looked towards the fountain, and the streaming water coming out of the statues of the little angels.
A few people were walking over the square, on this late October day in 1885. The two friends found a comfortable sitting position, adjusting to each other as they had done for decades over a long life, and then looking again at the fountain in silence. It was a pleasant morning, and as their eyes crossed it felt like something different was going to happen. It was like a threshold that had been reached, and Vito smiled softly: “What a nice morning.”
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