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How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

(Invictus, William Ernest Henley)

To Don Ture Di Nardo “Pileri”

to my grandfather Calogero Barone “Ccanino”

to all veterans

and to those who have never returned

Nino Amadore, my friend and esteemed journalist of “Il Sole 24 Ore”, wrote in one of his articles: “Cristiano Parafioriti is the founder of a new literary genre, Sicilian minimalism, where the stories of a country and its people become the stories of the whole world”.

I jealously guard this definition in my memory and heart, and the more stories I write, the more I find myself in those words.

My work is born in my small and beloved village, Galati Mamertino, a mountain village perched on the Nebrodi mountains in Sicily. Galati is a melting pot of many other tiny places and many other realities that shine with their own light, each with stories to tell, with their people, with their own myths.

This novel was born from one of these magical corners, San Giorgio, a remote and by now an uninhabited village, of which today only a few abandoned ruins remain.