I'm Riccardo.
I married Maria four years ago and for two years we have had a child, Ludovico. I live in Conegliano, near Treviso, a town nestled in the Prosecco hills. The very famous Italian wine with which until yesterday was toasted all over the world. And even today, after all, "have a little drink" might not be a bad idea.
My wife and son are staying at home now. Maria works for a travel agency and Ludovico still can't go back to his friends at the nursery.
I, on the other hand, work as a bookseller.
It has been my job for ten years. A good slice of life. And I've had an independent bookstore for four years. All mine. Another daughter, basically. Or maybe another wife, I should say. It depends on the days.
Between orders, customers, presentations, I work every day. With passion of course, but most of the time away from home. During the quarantine, we rolled up our sleeves. Like many booksellers, I activated a delivery service that kept me close to customers. Now who knows. We'll see
I like what I do. Very. True, it makes me a prisoner of deadlines and payments, today more than ever, yet strangely I feel liberated. As a child I remember saying that I would be a physiotherapist. Or better still the footballer, as a good average Italian. Maybe I got rid of that 'middle way' too.
Before this 2020, the most particular year of all my thirty-seven was 2016, when I decided to open my own business. A library. Independent. Saying it out loud again cuts my breath. A beautiful freedom, full of responsibility.
An epochal change. Even then. Like now.
I know little about what awaits us tomorrow, but I think I know a few things about today. Today I know that I am afraid of my future: the question marks are many, and the culture, my sector, is at the end.
At the same time, however, I also know that I am not afraid to live. To live, get under me and look him in the face, this scary future.
To me, to my family, to everyone I really wish you all the best.
