Research and autobiographical Project.

 

On 9 October 2008 my father died. on 10 October I found myself the owner of a house that I didn't want. A house built by my great-grandfather, the "family house" where, as a child, I spent all my summers. Where I was happy.

 

In 2008 that house was just an agglomeration of concrete and wood steeped in beautiful memories and which now smelled only of death and pain. I didn't want that house. I didn't want to be incorporated into the "family", and every time I tried to stay out of it, I was still trapped. From 2008 to 2017 my being heir led me to discover every minute secret of those walls. That house has revealed memories and secrets related to the Italian contemporary history of the twentieth century.

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This is the first chapter of an Italian history, of a family history, of migration, politics, poverty, struggle, Catholic Church, priests, bishops, relations with the Christian Democrats, family ties and tragedies related to the Second World War and after the war.

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The day after, I didn't want anything, I just wanted to forget.