ANNA

 Sitting there petrified, I thought maybe cemeteries were not a place where life ended but the beginning of a new one where every flower was in bloom; a place where I could celebrate Marco’s rebirth, but also said a proper goodbye to him.  

Sometimes I thought of him as a rose into a garden rather than this cold gray place that had no turning back. I was learning from this tragic experience that in life one could make our own monsters, but also we could choose to make ...