My childhood is a mosaic of memories, a collection of intertwined emotions in a fascinating labyrinth of experiences. But there was a thin thread connecting every single fragment of that period of my life: fear. A fear so tangible, so real, that it seemed to seep into every corner of my existence, turning days into a series of challenges to face.

Then there was that day at school, an episode that remains imprinted in my memory like an indelible mark. The teacher, with his strict and implacable voice, threatened to keep us in class if we were not ready for the next lesson.

It was a moment of total panic, a wave of terror spread among the desks, while I desperately searched for an escape from the situation. And so, without a second thought, I fled, inventing an absurd excuse, but plausible enough to justify my sudden getaway.

Not everything was dark and scary in my childhood. There were also moments of pure joy and carefreeness, like playing in the snow that filled the cold winter days, or icicles hanging from the gutters like sweet promises of an upcoming ray of sunshine.
And then there were my father and mother, two unwavering figures in their love and dedication towards us. As my father told us captivating stories, skillfully blending reality and fantasy, his deep and reassuring voice transported us to distant and fantastical worlds, inhabited by brave heroes and magical creatures.
Sitting around the crackling fireplace, captivated by his enveloping words, we felt like part of an enchanted universe where every dream could take shape and become reality. My mother took care of us with infinite sweetness and patience. I still remember the sound of her nocturnal work, washing our clothes and drying them by the brazier, giving us a sense of warmth and protection even in the darkest moments.
Every detail, every shade of color of those wonderful years comes vividly back to my mind, as if it happened yesterday. And now, through the pages of this book, I want to share with you readers the warmth and magic of those moments, conveying a bit of the joy that shaped my soul and nourished my spirit as a dreamy child.
Yes, we were seven brothers and two sisters, raised in a modest family, with few material resources but rich in love and solidarity. And even though fear marked my first steps in the world, it was precisely that fear that taught me the true meaning of courage and resilience.
Despite the poverty that surrounded us, we were rich in joy and authentic experiences, like watching the local crafts or the animals in the stables. The milk sold by shepherds on the streets, the ancient crafts working with wood, iron, wicker, the donkeys and mules that populated the stables - everything was part of a magical world that unfolds before my curious child eyes.
These memories, like intertwined threads of an ancient tapestry, are the fabric on which I have woven my identity, my roots, my essence. In this book of my childhood, I want to share with you readers the hidden treasures of those unforgettable years, telling the stories that have shaped my spirit and nourished my soul.
I hope these pages can convey a hint of that magic that made my childhood a precious treasure to cherish in the heart. Welcome to my world of yesterday, made of dreams, fears, and wonders, where each page is a piece of heart offered with love and gratitude.
Because, in the end, it is the challenges we face during the journey of our childhood that shape the adult we will become, and I am grateful for every single moment lived, fearful or joyful as it may be, because it has made me the person I am today.