Bucolics and the other lives that my Anita welcomes every day.
A brief work-homage-thank you for the life we live together. I love you, my little angel.

It feels like it was yesterday, but seven months ago I lost one of the most important beings in my life. Of my 30 years lived, that was certainly the saddest day I've lived to date.
I lost my little one, who is not a person, but an angel.
With Anita's death - after the first moment of deeper sadness, practically paralyzing - I started to think about the images of absence, of farewell, of death. I then started thinking about the representations of pets within this. They die leaving the images of how they made happier the lives of the house and the people who inhabit it. We keep their photographs, which we later return to remember and show to those who were not lucky enough to meet them. They don't leave objects, letters, conversations, secrets. It's not like 10 years from now I would find something that would make me discover anything new about Anita, or remind me of something that was already latent in my memory.
It still hurts me a lot to see the photographs that I took of her throughout her nine years of life, but at the same time, I still think that she is in many other places besides those images. She may not have left me anything saved to discover a few years from now, but she left other traces, other ways for me to continue meeting her.
Now I'm the one watching the droplets fall from the shower box after the hot shower. I think about how this was one of her greatest entertainments and for a moment things in life seem simpler.
Despite the many cozy places in the house, Anita and one of her sisters always liked to sit, one after the other, on the right arm of the sofa, during the half hour that the sun shines through. I used to joke that she was there to protect the house and only now I realized that this is one of the only places from where is possible to see the entire house.
To say goodbye to my daughter I planted a purple Bouganvillea with her ashes. The sisters came to see, curious.

I didn't want to sweep the first flowers that fell off the ground, they were so bucolic.

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