To listen to you speak, is to hear the whisper of the gods. On the day of your conception, all was right in this world. It was a peaceful summer day, blissful and sweet. Not as blissful and sweet as your lips, but none of us can compare each other to a summer’s day. You are an angel, even if there is no sympathy in your eyes. There was solidarity, but now there is unanimity. There is hopelessness, but despite it all, there is beauty and strength. There is beauty and strength that came from you, but also that came from a union meant to fall. We are Rome. You know yourself and I know something, something that I am interested in knowing. Your face will cross my mind each day, each moment.