Between the top and the sky

Few times have I found comfort in words or in confiding in people (whether they were friends or relatives). I like to talk, but not about my feelings. Music is what makes me process sadness. Preferably in the car, alone, on a long journey. Sport, whatever it is, but preferably
in the mountains, is the way through which I like to confront anger and happiness. Writing, on the other hand, is necessary for me to put my ideas in order, to really understand what I think happened, perhaps more within me than in the real world. Not so much or not just so that others can understand and/or share. It is above all a personal need. Especially if they are emotionally strong. I also write because I'm afraid I'll forget certain details that I'd like to remember or recall. When I started writing this book, I thought I could tell the last
teachings and the last months of my dad's life. Writing I realized that I could only tell what I saw, perceived, interpreted, as a spectator in the front row, of his last ascent. A bit like when you are taught "speak for yourself" as a child. You can imagine other people's feelings,
but you can't fully know them. I never knew my paternal grandfather, Bruno.