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“My son is the man who is handing his passport to the policeman.
My son is the policeman who is receiving the passport.
My son is the old man in front of me in the queue, here, in the air-port, in Beijing.
Over the last twelve months, I have been seeing the face of my son in the faces of all the Chinese people I have happened to meet.
I was walking in Milan, Italy, when Laura called me and told me that our application had been finally sent to China. We would be receivinga son or a daughter from China. I was excited. I put my phone into my jacket pocket and slowed down in the Corso Vittorio Emanuele gallery. There was a multitude of people around me, but I was totally unaware of their existence. I was trying to picture my son’s, or my daughter’s face and hands. I wondered what age he or she was. For a while I kept imagining and reviewing all the possibilities, and all the hypotheses, but I was not able to create an image which would bring an end to my seeking.
Then, suddenly, I found him.
He was walking in front of me with his wife and little daughter. I was not sure about his origin, if he were truly Chinese or not, but it was definitely him. He was a little younger than I. I was happy to see he was so distinguished, with his gold-rimmed glasses and nicely ironed, blue shirt.”
―
My son is the policeman who is receiving the passport.
My son is the old man in front of me in the queue, here, in the air-port, in Beijing.
Over the last twelve months, I have been seeing the face of my son in the faces of all the Chinese people I have happened to meet.
I was walking in Milan, Italy, when Laura called me and told me that our application had been finally sent to China. We would be receivinga son or a daughter from China. I was excited. I put my phone into my jacket pocket and slowed down in the Corso Vittorio Emanuele gallery. There was a multitude of people around me, but I was totally unaware of their existence. I was trying to picture my son’s, or my daughter’s face and hands. I wondered what age he or she was. For a while I kept imagining and reviewing all the possibilities, and all the hypotheses, but I was not able to create an image which would bring an end to my seeking.
Then, suddenly, I found him.
He was walking in front of me with his wife and little daughter. I was not sure about his origin, if he were truly Chinese or not, but it was definitely him. He was a little younger than I. I was happy to see he was so distinguished, with his gold-rimmed glasses and nicely ironed, blue shirt.”
―
“The strongest monsoon in the last twenty years is raging on Beijing. The plane has not received permission to leave. The planes which have already left Taiyuan are coming back and all flights are on hold waiting for their permission to takeoff. We all have to get out.
The monsoon! Not my tube.”
―
The monsoon! Not my tube.”
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“If there is something I have not yet written and I must declare about her, is that without her (Laura) will nad her values, today Rebecca and Yong would not be in the individuals I know. Two other different people would now be living somewhere in the world. Not Rebecca and Yong, but someone else. Similarly, without Rebecca and Yong, neither Laura nor myself would be the same. Another two people would be living in Milan, in our apartment.”
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