Roberto Saviano: Michela Murgia's poignant memory

They assured me it was a cure , the passage of time.

Which would have allowed me to accept not seeing you anymore,

to now consider it inevitable that I won't get any answers from you.

They assured me that, as the days went by,

we would even have gotten used to your absence .

They scammed me.

There's no habit . I didn't accept anything.

I want a door to open now,

and that — damn it — you can enter the room

as you return from a trip,

because this is how I'm still living you : waiting.

If this does not happen, Michela ,

if you don't come back today,

I don't care about the memory ,

the pages are useless , the commemorations have tired me.

I need the sound of your footsteps on the stairs,

to see you, to smell your skin,

of your voice that resonates in the garden

that you enjoyed for just one day

and now has a wonderful foosball table

that you can't ignore for any reason .

But if you don't come back, Michy ,

Today I don't care about remembering anything.

I 'll gorge myself on drops , I'll stay in bed sedated all day ,

and how disgusting, death took you away .

Amen.

Roberto Saviano