VIII - It's Time
But it is time to take that November afternoon, a clear and fresh afternoon, as still as our house and the stretch of the street where we were living. Truly was the beginning of my life; all that had happened before was how to paint and dress the people who had to enter the scene, the lights accent, the fiddle preparation, the symphonia ... Now I was going to start my opera. "Life is an opera," an old Italian tenor told me, who lived and died here ... And he explained the definition to me one day, in such a way that he made me believe it. Maybe it's worth dal-a; It's just a chapter.
