Davide has just blown away out of the corner of his mouth a stray lock of hair off his forehead. His unruly hair constantly finds its way into his eyes, whether due to the fact that he is hunched over the lathe, or because his body needs to express weightlessness amidst so much material, or else a memory made present. It was his grandfather who would always affectionately ruffle his hair sitting next to him when he was child. Over the years his brown bob has framed a face that has gradually matured, though still very much the same as when he was young and his grandfather’s big hands messed up his hair, making locks fall into his eyes...read more
