Book and I

It was largely a deviation from my writing purpose, and by the vast majority of the remaining readers it turned into a nostalgia object, a longing text, a childhood or a guide to old years. Almost every reader I spoke to or wrote said that they understood that today is a very beautiful year and that we lost many things today.

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They were not unfair in their minds, but they never considered that the shortcomings that made life harder to be overcome in part or in full, they made misguided interpretations of completely abstract and sometimes debatable values, and they did not even consider it necessary to produce any idea of ​​regaining the values ​​they thought we had lost.

They lived like an exuberant and strange mourning, held after a celebrated death due to joyous life. For them, a period had closed, but it was not to think of your future coming to your share, but to lament the past.