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“Mamma, la gatta mi guarda.” by Ryan

This skinny girl from uptown clung to her mother’s skirt as they walked each morning down to the fish market. Her mother, a tall woman once an athlete, took long strides and her daughter would be at full stretch, almost running, not to let go. The girl herself held a rag doll by the arm. An arm that one day came off. Her mother chose only the freshest fish and had them cleaned. The girl watched as the heads and innards were tossed into a bucket, but hid her eyes in her mother’s skirt as the dock cats came closer.

Notes

As usual the best part of illustrating these stories is getting to add something of your own imagination to it. What is the girl thinking? Why is she afraid of the cats? I guess Ryan had something completely different in mind when writing this story…

Vera by Angelo Macrì

Da bambino ti amavo perché nessun altro osava farlo.
Perché le tue ginocchia erano sbucciate come le mie. Perché lanciavi le tue bambole sugli alberi e non t’importava se andavo a riprenderle.
Disegnavi giraffe variopinte e ti macchiavi le mani coi pennarelli.
Ridevo quando ridevi, senza mai chiedermi perché. E quando non lo facevi, e mi guardavi come un treno in corsa guarda un cane sui binari, mi veniva da vomitare.
Ma non sapevo niente di tutto ciò e nemmeno tu. Il mio rileggere quei giorni con gli occhi annebbiati è solo una menzogna preziosa. Per questo è così vera.