Dedicated to
Lupe: silent and delicate playmate, little wonder with big green eyes.
Small footprints
made of dust. Staring eyes . Long spider licorice legs. Continuous vibrations and
subtle whispers. Cats always inspire immense poetry.
They are beings
from other worlds and they simply exist to teach us the value of silence and
respect. The incredible importance of small things. The discovery of the sun as
a force capable of bringing you back to life. The revelation of small secrets
made of wind and a scent of rain.
I was born in a
family of cat lovers. My grandfather was one. My father is one. My mother has
become one. I was only two days old when the family cat slid into my bassinet.
No scratches, just a gentle warmth. She kept me warm until my parents found
her, and yet they didn’t have heart to push her away. I owe my imprinting, the
most sensitive part, to her. She was called Pallina and she was the mother and
grandmother of generations of cats in the family garden. After her, I loved, collected
and attended to hundreds of cats. I have wonderful memories of all of them. Funny,
genuine laughter that only clumsy movements and poorly organized ambushes can
give you. I grew up with the cat smell. To me that smell takes me back home, to
the warmth of my first blankets, to the games in the shade of the pear tree. In
any part of the world I am.
