Today is World Book Day. I owe books so much. But I think what I am most grateful for is that books have allowed me to dig deep into my father’s soul hidden places.
Mi father was an avid reader, as I never met someone before. Reading was his passion. And when I say reading and emphasise in passion I am not talking about someone who read as a hobby. No. My father read non-stop. He ate at his library, received visits and clients in his library, taught things to my sister and me in his library. His comfort zone. His happiness. His spiritual search through the books and without leaving his house was exceptional. But apart from that he disliked anything and read everything. Art, philosophy, literature, research, memories. Everything was valued and studied thoroughly. Because his reading was not only to scan a book and finish it. No. His reading was to examine every juicy sentence and interiorize every moment, person and place. His reading was to highlight every thought, every important quote, every lesson of life. I am not mistaken when I say that talking to my father was an absolute pleasure. His serenity, his energy, the wisdom of whom had understood enough to be happy with the simple, to value the silence, to answer our crazy questions and give us a guide on where to start to achieve our goals. I miss my father, yes. But I have the fortune to open his books and find his notes, that still guide me and fill my heart with love. I cannot see him, or hear him, but it does not matter anymore. What matters is to feel him, love him, remember him. Happy World Book Day!