'I gave up asking questions. It wasn’t answers that I wanted any longer. I only wanted my wife back. Now! But day after day it was the same thing. The woman with the large face going ‘Umberto si! Umberto no! Umberto, vieni qua, bambino mio!’ The swollen breasts, the coldness on my bum in that bright, white room, the helpless sprawling on the marbled floor and the futile grabbing for things forever just out of my reach. The day all of this changed, I was on the very brink of madness itself!'
From: That Holiday in Tuscany
