Enrico Rocco, 31 years old, manager of a trading company, in love, closed the door of his office. The thought of her had become so powerful and agonizing that he found the strength to do it. He would write to her, casting aside any shred of pride or modesty.
“Excellent signorina,” he began, and at the mere thought that she would see the marks left by his pen on the paper, his heart began to race. “Gracious Ornella, my Beloved, dear soul, my light, fire that burns me, obsession of my nights, smile, little flower, my Love…”