She was shaped also by her mother, who lived with her in that beautiful small house. While she studied and went to demonstrations and did volunteer work, her mother took care of her child. In this way, Monica grew up building a life out her mother’s life, and on that life she built hers, and on her mother’s death we decided to build our house, for a new family that was Monica, her child and me.
It is easy to imagine what kind of sorrows and frustrations happened next. This sort of thing happens more than it doesn’t. Someone told me that marriages are accidents waiting to happen: lock a man and a woman in a room, throw out the key, and watch and wait. At that time I was already working for a new firm, designing steel and glass office towers. On the side I had concerned myself with preservi
