A man writes alone in a room immersed in silence. The curtains move gently, as if the wind passing through them were driven by something deeper, almost an invisible breath that vibrates with his emotions. Before him, on the page and in his mind, slowly takes shape a love story at its end: that of Alessandra and Andrea, two souls who once loved each other but now stand on the edge of an abyss. Alessandra chooses to leave. Andrea, suddenly abandoned without explanation, remains trapped in his inability to understand her choice.
The writer watches. He writes. He suffers. But as time passes, the distance between him and his character narrows until it completely fades away. Andrea is no longer just a protagonist: he is a reflection, a double, an emotional extension of his creator. Their gazes intertwine, their pains blend together. The narrative comes alive and the writer becomes Andrea, inhabiting every silence, every absence, every fragile attempt to understand.
When the story reaches its end, the writer stops writing and everything seems finished. Yet, at that very moment, something happens: Alessandra appears. Not on the paper, but in the room, in the wind, among the curtains moving like a stage curtain opening on a mirage. She is there, real or imagined, with the same held gaze, teary eyes, words never spoken. An unreal space where everything blurs.
In that suspended instant, the writer’s pen starts moving again. One single word, an eternal question: “Why?”

Origin