9.
Greta was tired. She had walked for a long time, escorted by an impalpable presence: she did not feel fear inside her, but it was as if something made her uncomfortable.
The clouds lined up created a shield between the sun and the earth.
The streets were still deserted, and lonely birds were already flying over the discolored roofs of the houses.
It was time for her to go home. She didn't want her grandmother to think that she was gone again.
Not anymore.
She could not say whether she wanted to find her grandmother already up, or still in her room, to have some more time to gather up her ideas. But what was the use of keeping on mulling over her thoughts, if each time she did not know where to start unraveling that tangled bundle?
Donna Filomena, Greta's grandmother, was seat
