Venice, 3 August 1916
The train of the Genova-Venice line left the bombed station of Mestre and climbed slowly over the raised railway path of the Venetian lagoon.
Mario shut the magazine he was keeping open during the whole trip, hiding a smile. Felicia’s obsession not to throw anything away. He passed his brown leather rucksack over his shoulder and got up.
‘Is it you on the cover?’
The girl opposite him was playing with an edge of her rich auburn hair in her fingers.
‘No…’
‘You look like her…’
‘A bit…’
‘Are you going towards the Rialto Bridge, perhaps?’
‘Unfortunately not’.
‘The view of the Grand Canal is wonderful from the hotel suite…’
‘I’m sure it is…’
He greeted her and stepped out into the aisle. The train came to a stop with a prolonged squeal on the line of the third
