(no subject)

Just came back from Hell. Pick up the pieces again. And tomorrow is my day, as, as many of you know, my name is Valentina. And here we usually celebrate your Saint's day. Another "first ...-day alone". I wish I could sleep all day through, but there are things I have to do.

(no subject)

Just came back from Hell. Pick up the pieces again. And tomorrow is my day, as, as many of you know, my name is Valentina. And here we usually celebrate your Saint's day. Another "first ...-day alone". I wish I could sleep all day through, but there are things I have to do.

(no subject)

Just came back from Hell. Pick up the pieces again. And tomorrow is my day, as, as many of you know, my name is Valentina. And here we usually celebrate your Saint's day. Another "first ...-day alone". I wish I could sleep all day through, but there are things I have to do.

(no subject)

As I was making the dishes, I suddenly remembered a thing from the past. When my sister first fell ill, in 1996, she was 10 and I was 12. We both lived in this big hospital for people with cancer back in Milan for more than a year. They got us a special permission so that I could stay there all day too, even if I wasn't ill. We changed room a few times, and once we shared it with this little girl, Sarah. She was 4, 5 top. Both moms started talking at once, and Sarah's mom told mine that they had this problem, everytime they tried to make any kind of medical exam, Sarah would start trembling like mad, and they couldn't do it, and they couldn't give her something to sleep either. While they talked, I sat near Sarah's bed, and started telling her all a story from a children's book I had just finished reading. She said nothing, she just looked at me with her big eyes, as not to lose one word. My sister was on the other bed, and following all the scene. After a good 20 minutes, they finally noticed us, and Sarah's mom, all happy, called the doctors because "Sarah was finally calm and peaceful", and they brought her downstairs to make her check-up. That was the first time I felt useful, that my being there could make a little difference. When we were left alone, my sister suggested me to consider that as a job, later on. I mean, using my voice, like dubbing, or in the radio, or working with kids. That dream was born that day, and I carried it with me for some years, until my sister's death, and we used to talk about it a lot, making lots of projects. The only thing that was left of that was how much I still loved telling long, detailed stories to mom, and singing to her, but I felt I couldn't do it for anyone else again.

About Sarah, sort of three years ago, I mentioned her, like "I wonder how tall she must be now, I guess she's totally different too, I wouldn't recognize her", and mom answered "Seeing what she had back then, I think she's in the Lord's gardens since many years now". I was shocked. You know, none of us children knew *exactly* what the other children had. They were all there so that they could be cured, and that was all. I think that was the first time I actually understood that many of my friends back there could be dead. And I still wonder where they are now.

(no subject)

As I was making the dishes, I suddenly remembered a thing from the past. When my sister first fell ill, in 1996, she was 10 and I was 12. We both lived in this big hospital for people with cancer back in Milan for more than a year. They got us a special permission so that I could stay there all day too, even if I wasn't ill. We changed room a few times, and once we shared it with this little girl, Sarah. She was 4, 5 top. Both moms started talking at once, and Sarah's mom told mine that they had this problem, everytime they tried to make any kind of medical exam, Sarah would start trembling like mad, and they couldn't do it, and they couldn't give her something to sleep either. While they talked, I sat near Sarah's bed, and started telling her all a story from a children's book I had just finished reading. She said nothing, she just looked at me with her big eyes, as not to lose one word. My sister was on the other bed, and following all the scene. After a good 20 minutes, they finally noticed us, and Sarah's mom, all happy, called the doctors because "Sarah was finally calm and peaceful", and they brought her downstairs to make her check-up. That was the first time I felt useful, that my being there could make a little difference. When we were left alone, my sister suggested me to consider that as a job, later on. I mean, using my voice, like dubbing, or in the radio, or working with kids. That dream was born that day, and I carried it with me for some years, until my sister's death, and we used to talk about it a lot, making lots of projects. The only thing that was left of that was how much I still loved telling long, detailed stories to mom, and singing to her, but I felt I couldn't do it for anyone else again.

About Sarah, sort of three years ago, I mentioned her, like "I wonder how tall she must be now, I guess she's totally different too, I wouldn't recognize her", and mom answered "Seeing what she had back then, I think she's in the Lord's gardens since many years now". I was shocked. You know, none of us children knew *exactly* what the other children had. They were all there so that they could be cured, and that was all. I think that was the first time I actually understood that many of my friends back there could be dead. And I still wonder where they are now.

(no subject)

As I was making the dishes, I suddenly remembered a thing from the past. When my sister first fell ill, in 1996, she was 10 and I was 12. We both lived in this big hospital for people with cancer back in Milan for more than a year. They got us a special permission so that I could stay there all day too, even if I wasn't ill. We changed room a few times, and once we shared it with this little girl, Sarah. She was 4, 5 top. Both moms started talking at once, and Sarah's mom told mine that they had this problem, everytime they tried to make any kind of medical exam, Sarah would start trembling like mad, and they couldn't do it, and they couldn't give her something to sleep either. While they talked, I sat near Sarah's bed, and started telling her all a story from a children's book I had just finished reading. She said nothing, she just looked at me with her big eyes, as not to lose one word. My sister was on the other bed, and following all the scene. After a good 20 minutes, they finally noticed us, and Sarah's mom, all happy, called the doctors because "Sarah was finally calm and peaceful", and they brought her downstairs to make her check-up. That was the first time I felt useful, that my being there could make a little difference. When we were left alone, my sister suggested me to consider that as a job, later on. I mean, using my voice, like dubbing, or in the radio, or working with kids. That dream was born that day, and I carried it with me for some years, until my sister's death, and we used to talk about it a lot, making lots of projects. The only thing that was left of that was how much I still loved telling long, detailed stories to mom, and singing to her, but I felt I couldn't do it for anyone else again.

About Sarah, sort of three years ago, I mentioned her, like "I wonder how tall she must be now, I guess she's totally different too, I wouldn't recognize her", and mom answered "Seeing what she had back then, I think she's in the Lord's gardens since many years now". I was shocked. You know, none of us children knew *exactly* what the other children had. They were all there so that they could be cured, and that was all. I think that was the first time I actually understood that many of my friends back there could be dead. And I still wonder where they are now.