Walter had been lying on the ground looking at the ceiling for a few minutes, his arms crossed under his head.
"If you don't want to do it for yourself, then do it for others. Do it so all those deaths can have justice... do it for me, so that I don't have to live what’s left of my life like a hunted animal!" he insisted, but his words didn't seem to move him at all.
Walter showed no sign of a reaction, he had fallen into a kind of trance in which he tried to force memories to return to the remote corner of memory from which they had emerged. So Carpetti picked up the book from the ground. Then with delicate gestures, as if it were a sacred object, he placed a hand on it without looking at it. He opened it at random and read aloud:
"Minimum distances but unreachable destinations / inacc
