Lives of the Saints (2015)
“I heard the rain coming in the early hours before daybreak, first the wind, which dragged some object on the balcony across the metal rail and hurled it with a muffled clap to the floor, then the first dull splats of rain against the window. As the noise built up to an insistent drone, grey light began to filter through the curtain and give form to the objects in the room, the chair at the foot of the bed, a rickety table, a crucifix on the wall. I had spent the last nights in almost constant w...akefulness, listening to the measured rhythms of my mother’s breathing, conscious always of the warm bulge at her belly, which seemed to hum with a strange, electric energy; but tonight my mother had tossed and turned the whole night, her breathing broken and quick.
‘Get up, Vittorio,’ she said, when she’d dragged herself up from sleep. ‘It’s time to go.’ We had breakfast with Zia Lucia and Marta in silence, a small fire burning in the hearth and the rain still falling heavily outside.MoreLess
‘Get up, Vittorio,’ she said, when she’d dragged herself up from sleep. ‘It’s time to go.’ We had breakfast with Zia Lucia and Marta in silence, a small fire burning in the hearth and the rain still falling heavily outside.MoreLess
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