The grey gloom of a rainy afternoon and the empty alleyway is depressing. Only the yellowish headlamp of an ancient Vespa ridden by Salvo the old greengrocer suggests that colour exists in monochrome surroundings. He drives through puddles and looks at us suspiciously.

Marco stands on the step and stares at nothing, because there is nothing there, but his face suggests something different. 

“What do you see?”  

“What do YOU see?” he challenges. I shrug my shoulders. 

“I see sunshine and shadows,” he says. “The heat of a lazy afternoon. Tables and chairs. Miniature olive trees in pots. Young men and women sitting and talking.” He moves his gaze to the crumbling stucco wall. “There is a woman wearing sunglasses who holds a pen in her right hand with a notebook in front of her. There is something in the bag at her feet that holds a dark secret. But she doesn’t want to tell me anything. I want to tell her that from where I stand she is now dead.”

“What else can you see?” I ask.

“The woman opposite her, an old lady now, is reading the Memoirs of Jacques Casanova. The men wear sports jackets and baggy trousers and talk amongst themselves about football and fast cars – Alfa Romeos and Lancias – and the women they want to flirt with. 

“Salvo the greengrocer is a young man, and he leans back on his chair, a Corriere della Sera sticking out of his pocket, and he is talking to a slender woman with long black hair and stiletto heels. She is ignoring him because she senses something but doesn’t know what it is.”

“Who is she?”

“This is your great grandmother and she is looking towards where you stand, but you are invisible to her because you haven’t been born. But she is troubled because something lies in wait that will cause distress to her family. She doesn’t know it yet, but your great grandfather, who sits before her, a philosopher amongst friends, with a violent temper, will kill the man he is talking to. Just like you did, Nido – her great grandson. It is the curse of your family. The curse of the Lombardos.”