La nevicata del '56-Mia Martini

or the high acqua of '66. Or the snowfall of '85. Dedicated to LL. And to all those who – in such things – can also see something beautiful. To my envy, too, of not being there. Because people talk. And they remember how much it matters. How important something is that they are. How beautiful it is. How fragile it is. How strong it is.