I met Stefano in 1992. It was summer. I was in the middle of Death Valley in California without petrol and water. It was certainly not the most suitable place to be in summertime with your car broken down. I feared the worst, my fault, of course, because I had succumbed to the risk of entering that inhospitable place even though it was clearly not recommended to do so in the hot months.
So much so that not a soul passed by and after more than two hours of waiting I seriously began to worry.
The sun was slowly going away too, tired after a busy day and I was sitting on the side of the road praying that a car would materialize from the horizon. And, fortunately, that's what happened. He arrived and stopped. "Do you need help?" I heard myself ask from the rolled down window. That was our first meeting. We spent a few days together traveling through that valley that was at the same time inhospitable and enveloping, hard and fascinating. We talked freely about life and shared dreams, expectations, worries, hypothesizing the future of an existence in progress imagined and painted with the vivid colors of youthful enthusiasm. Years have passed since our first meeting and life has taken its course. It has often deviated from those expectations, from those dreams, it has put us to the test, often forcing us to get back into the game and question ourselves, to review plans, even making choices that are not always appropriate or desired.
Even though time has passed, our bond has not loosened, on the contrary, it has remained firm and despite "you discover that dreams are sometimes made of cardboard" we can and, perhaps, must always create new ones .
Don't give up, my friend, and keep dreaming!
Stanislaus Molinsky (an unyielding friend)
So much so that not a soul passed by and after more than two hours of waiting I seriously began to worry.
The sun was slowly going away too, tired after a busy day and I was sitting on the side of the road praying that a car would materialize from the horizon. And, fortunately, that's what happened. He arrived and stopped. "Do you need help?" I heard myself ask from the rolled down window. That was our first meeting. We spent a few days together traveling through that valley that was at the same time inhospitable and enveloping, hard and fascinating. We talked freely about life and shared dreams, expectations, worries, hypothesizing the future of an existence in progress imagined and painted with the vivid colors of youthful enthusiasm. Years have passed since our first meeting and life has taken its course. It has often deviated from those expectations, from those dreams, it has put us to the test, often forcing us to get back into the game and question ourselves, to review plans, even making choices that are not always appropriate or desired.
Even though time has passed, our bond has not loosened, on the contrary, it has remained firm and despite "you discover that dreams are sometimes made of cardboard" we can and, perhaps, must always create new ones .
Don't give up, my friend, and keep dreaming!
Stanislaus Molinsky (an unyielding friend)
