E' arrivato Natale

Facendo gli auguri ai lettori del mio blog avrei voluto scrivere parole un po' diverse dal solito. Non tanto per buonismo pre-natalizio quanto perché forse bisogna ammettere che il mondo cambia poco chiunque governi, e che troppo spesso sembrano sempre vincere i “cattivi”.

Tanto per parlarne, per molti anni ho tenuto una rubrica settimanale su un giornalino di provincia per il quale scrivevo pezzi interessanti e seguiti e stavo rileggendo il mio pezzo del Natale 1992, scritto esattamente 30 anni fa. Se lo avessi riprodotto interamente qui oggi quasi nessuno avrebbe scoperto che era “datato” perché descriveva una situazione di disordine mondiale e di sostanziale ingiustizia planetaria esattamente allora come oggi.

Sembra proprio che nessuno voglia imparare dalle esperienze passate, che pochissimi vogliano seriamente mettersi d’impegno per costruire e non solo distruggere.

Ma forse non è vero: trent’anni sono tanti per ciascuno di noi, ma un nulla rispetto alla storia eppure – se non volete arrendervi alle banalità - vi consiglio di leggere il bel libro “Factfulness” di Hans Rosling (sottotitolo: “Dieci ragioni per cui non capiamo il mondo e perché le cose vanno molto meglio di come pensiamo”) edito da Rizzoli. 

Scoprireste che, a dispetto di mille crisi, il mondo in questi 30 anni è andato decisamente avanti nonostante tutte le auto-distruzioni umane e i grandi numeri ci dicono che il livello di vita è generalmente migliorato anche nei paesi “poveri” nonostante epidemie e guerre.

Forse un bilancio vero non andrebbe però fatto solo su statistiche mondiali più o meno tranquillizzanti per quanto riguarda salute, istruzione, clima o vita media anche se, al di là dei catastrofismi, è per fortuna la verità. Quello che non entra nella statistica - e invece dovrebbe “pesare” soprattutto in questi giorni natalizi - è piuttosto il bilancio di ogni singola vita, quello dei rapporti umani che ciascuno di noi ha e vive con il prossimo.

Qui non c’entrano proprio le statistiche visto che ciascuno è arbitro di sé stesso e le conclusioni deve trarle da sé con bilanci che forse vengono più facili proprio a fine d’anno, ma che dovrebbero coinvolgerci anche (o soprattutto) per quell’“incidente” che siamo abituati a festeggiare – malamente, nel senso che troppe volte ne tradiamo il senso - una settimana prima di Capodanno, ovvero quello che chiamiamo Natale.

Non so come effettivamente siano andate le cose in quel di Betlemme ai tempi del fu Cesare Augusto, so che da lì è nato (o continuato) un grande discorso che coinvolge tutta l’umanità, anche se quasi sempre facciamo finta di non pensarci, occupati da tutt’altro.

Solo qualche volta, magari nei momenti tristi o in quelli – come a fine d’anno - in cui più facilmente si fanno bilanci, ecco che ci accorgiamo che il discorso dentro di noi è sempre incompiuto, ma che comunque da soli non ce la facciamo perché il “prossimo” - quello che sta appena là fuori - comunque ci interroga, ci impone di non pensare solo a noi stessi se siamo minimamente logici con principi non tanto religiosi quanto intimi, istintivi nella vita umana.

Per chi ci crede (io “ci spero”) la testimonianza che è nata in quella stalla è particolarmente aperta, spalancata verso “il prossimo tuo” tanto da costringerci a pensare non sono alle statistiche del mondo ma piuttosto a quel nostro bilancio intimo, unico, personale.

Possiamo non farlo, girarci intorno, far finta di dimenticarlo, ma prima o poi siamo comunque costretti a farlo perché in fondo - a quegli strani atomi che compongono la coscienza del nostro corpo e danno linfa al nostro spirito - questo bilancio diventa una specie di necessità e sale dal di dentro come un tappo di sughero che risale verso la superficie dell’acqua e che nessuno può fermare: prima o poi riemerge in piena luce.

Se ci fermiamo a pensare un po’ su questi nodi ecco che allora la luce delle luminarie di questi giorni conta davvero poco mentre vale ben di più quella luce che ciascuno di noi può accendere dentro di sé.

Alla fine per festeggiare il Natale “vero” – al di là dei “seasonal greetings”, formula ipocrita di auto-assoluzione per chi non ha più nemmeno il coraggio di dirsi cristiano - dovremmo soprattutto pensare seriamente a questi aspetti, senza nasconderci dietro a regali più o meno riciclati, obbligati o banali solo perché “si usa” scambiarseli.

Riflettendo scopriremo che ci serve assolutamente una luce, ma soprattutto la “nostra” luce, quella che riceviamo quando arriviamo in questo mondo ma che poi un giorno dovremo restituire. Ed è comunque bello, alla fine, distribuirla intorno a noi.

Potremo farlo in mille modi e in tutta libertà, magari cominciando a rifletterci un po’ e poi visitando chi è solo, perdonando un torto, aiutando un poco di più chi ha bisogno. 

Distribuire un po’ di quella luce è il regalo più bello che potremo fare ed è fantastico che possiamo costruirlo da noi prima di tutto proprio per noi stessi.

Anche questo è rinascere, ed è davvero Natale.

Love over sixty between false myths and reality of the body and heart

Heart pounding and shortness of breath. The hands that tremble, the passion that flares up. Common sense that turns into irrationality. The burning feeling that obliges one to do and say unspeakable things and apparently not in keeping with one's age. Emotions that become feelings and thoughts that detach from reality.

A recurring thought, which is a candidate to become an obsessive thought. These and many others are the symptoms of falling in love. And they are ageless. Among the urban legends about love, one unfortunately reigns supreme: youthful love can be passionate and irrational, it can overflow the banks of conscience, while adult and grizzled love absolutely not, it must wear the shoes of prudent love .

A common voice correlates the passion and elitist feeling of love to the chronological age of the protagonist of that couple bond; therefore, the ability to love after the "antas" is considered a risky, imprudent choice, bordering on recklessness and indecency.

This is a great falsehood, because the verb to love does not know age, skin color or gender. The average age has considerably lengthened, many diseases are treatable today, and aging is no longer combined with a worsening of psycho-physical health conditions.

The quality of life has improved globally, therefore, today's fifties and sixties correspond to yesterday's forties; and love and sex life belongs to the concept of quality of life.

To love, to get excited, to donate psychic parts of oneself and to get involved again, is an unequivocal sign of the fertility of existence.

Prudent love versus love and that's it

The word love doesn't go well with the term prudent, rational, weighted. Terms that clumsily and forcibly are associated with grizzled bonds. But does love age? A love without tachycardia and a good dose of enthusiasm, based on common sense and reasoning; a love that does not transform and that does not transform itself, that does not shift the barometer from reason to loss of control, is a sort of bad copy of the original feeling.

True love is not age related, but depends on many other elements that are sometimes present, other times not, regardless of age. There are prudent loves among young people and all-round loves among the over forties, and vice versa.

The homeopathic doses of feeling and the fear of letting go of love do not depend on the age of the protagonists of the couple bond, but on the defense mechanisms of the psyche, on how the partners were nourished in their respective childhood lands, and if they have really been nourished, by how much and how they are willing to invest in the couple's journey, and by that indispensable dose of healthy madness that belongs to those who really love. Love seduces and scares, so often, at all ages, short-term love affairs are preferred, with high emotional intensity, but with a low level of effort.

Youthful loves follow one another and represent the trials and errors of becoming an adult. Often fleeting, sometimes intense and destructive, other times they are ferry loves : they wear the clothes of Charon and help to pass through the land of adults. Grizzled loves are more aware loves.

Loves that have overcome the obligation to aesthetic perfectionism, able to let themselves be overwhelmed by the waves of emotion, without bumps and without too much slow motion.

Love and caution: alibi or reality?

The theory of caution at a certain age is quite frequent and sadly in use. Many protagonists of shipwrecked loves imagine their sentimental and sexual life as if it were a sort of flat calm. Thoughtful. Perhaps crowded in terms of the quantity of meetings to the detriment of the emotional quality because it is risky.

A sort of love multitasking that facilitates a multi-level relationship life, but prevents its depth. There is nothing more wrong. The sacred fire of love doesn't deal with the registry office, with the first wrinkles and graying hair, instead it characterizes courageous loves.

The bold. Those who still have so much to say and give themselves, ready to invest again and again, with a heart without fence walls, with a good dose of boldness and vitality, without reservations and without the most acrobatic strategies to balance emotional balances .

In love there are no budgets, accounts with the abacus or emotional compromises. There are no costs and benefits, who gives more and who less should reign supreme the ability and desire to love and be loved, in any season of life.

The emotions experienced at a certain age take on a more intense meaning, because they force us to come to terms with ourselves. As adults you shouldn't lie to yourself, you should already know what you no longer want from life and, why not, what you still want. Loving at all ages is the most powerful of the elixirs of life , because pleasure always remains a sentinel of life.

Love over sixty between false myths and reality of the body and heart

Grizzled loves create conflicting emotions: some shun them, some praise them. There are those who challenge biology and want to become a parent. Who has been in the past, but he was too young to be aware of and fully enjoy the joys of parenthood and want to try again in hindsight.

They are not tired bonds, characterized by emotional and sexual asthenia; they are bonds nourished and warmed by the awareness and playful relationship with sexuality and sexual health. They are certainly not lukewarm and bored loves, they are instead highly emotional bonds, with butterflies in the stomach of a teenager and a grateful gaze towards the life of an adult.

Many sixty-year-olds today have already crashed against the rocks of previous shipwrecked marriages, but despite the wounds of the heart they hope to be able to love once again, with the secret hope that this time is the right time.

Experienced couples, bored couples?

Not at all. They are couples who have substituted fear for the fullness of life, lack of knowledge of themselves and their partner for a more in-depth reading of the dynamics that characterize the couple's relationship; all warmed up by an empathetic and authentic dialogue.

This emotional climate nourished by a good relationship with oneself, with one's body and with one's world of impulses, makes the over fifty excellent lovers, who experience sexuality in a playful and conscious way, without the anxiety of performance and possible conception.

Loving extends life

Love with its hormonal and emotional bath extends life. Many studies show that over 65s in love live longer and in better health than singles, divorced and widowed people.

Salt and pepper hair does not correlate with the early retirement of love life and with life under the sheets, but with the courage to start over. Many men and many women are no longer satisfied with the half measures of living love: they close exhausted relationships, cut the dry leaves, and start over.

With enthusiasm, with love, with the heartbeat of falling in love, sometimes with a wedding ring on your finger. The desire to love and to love well survives the wear and tear of time that dusts everything and becomes a true cornerstone of many existences.

A love advanced in years has the power to make peace with love, takes on a repairing meaning, and is the healthy bearer of a great transformative force capable of healing the previous wounds of the heart.

Age does not protect against the fear of loving and from love, but love, on the other hand, protects against advancing age.

Optical illusion

What does this optical illusion teach us about our brain. The black spot that seems to actually get bigger - guess what? - is still, but deceives our eye pupils.

If looking at the image above you have the impression that the black spot in the center is enlarging to the point of sucking you in, do not worry: the image is actually fixed and the hole in its center is not increasing in size, even if ours brain would like us to believe otherwise. In addition to being a curiosity to share with friends, optical illusions like this offer research groups important insights to better understand how our brain works and how we see the world, or at least think we see it.

The expanding black spot, for example, was the subject of recent research recently published in the scientific journal Frontiers in Human Neuroscience . The illusion was shown to 50 men and women without sight problems, while the research group detected with a particular instrument the movements of the eyes and in particular of the pupil, the small hole that allows the passage of light inside the eyeball.

The analysis revealed that the people who see the effect of the apparently expanding black spot more than others are also those whose pupils expand the most when they look at the image. The study also found that about 14 percent of the people involved saw the illustration for what it was: a static image with a dark spot in the center that was always the same size.

Your pupils are constantly dilating and narrowing, yours are doing as you read this article, to adapt your vision to the amount of light around us. In low light conditions, the pupils dilate to try to let in as much light as possible, while they shrink when there is a lot of light, for example when we are outside on a sunny day.

In the case of the optical illusion, the spot in the center is not getting darker nor are other lighting conditions changing, but the perception that it is expanding is due to how our brain sees things and causes the pupils to respond in unexpected ways. , writes the research team in the study. As one of the authors explained to the New York Times : “There is no reason why the pupil should change in this situation, because nothing is changing. But something has clearly changed in our minds. "

The mechanisms that determine this reaction, as well as those to other optical illusions, are not completely clear, but the research nevertheless exposes some hypotheses. The vision of the image has that effect because the way it is made, with a gradient that becomes darker and darker, induces a sensation similar to the one you get when you go from a bright place to a darker one, like a gallery. without lighting. The impression is therefore that of a darkness that progressively envelops us, and hence the feeling that the black spot is widening.

Our brain works by processing signals and detecting differences, then referring to previous experiences with similar characteristics. Observing the image recalls the sensation you get when you enter a dimly lit room, and from this comes the effect of seeing the image enlarge as if you were moving into that new environment.

Human beings, like all other animals, do not have systems in their organisms for measuring external stimuli and what is happening around them with great precision. Our eyes, for example, do not measure light as a camera would do by returning a precise data: they collect much more vague information, which is then transmitted to the brain where it is processed on the basis of other data collected by the other senses and experiences. . The result in this case is what we call vision and which has many more subjective elements than we imagine.

It is this subjectivity that causes the different perception of the “expanding black spot” effect of the image, and causes some people to see no expansion or motion effect. This is also the reason why some people are more prone to the effect when it is played with a background other than white. For example, in their study, the research team reported that the effect is most frequently seen when the background has magenta as the color.

In a certain sense, the stimuli our brain almost always responds to by trying to guess, trying to get as close as possible to the best solution. This system works in most cases and allows us to have, for example, the right coordination to drive or even more simply to remain standing without losing balance, but in some circumstances some contradictory stimuli - such as those deriving from an optical illusion - they can break the mechanism or make it work less efficiently.

The research team working on the image of the expanding black spot also speculated that the brain tries to predict the future when it receives the information about the illustration. The visual stimulus takes a few fractions of a second before reaching the brain, which will then have to process it and figure out what to do with that information. At the end of this process, however, other things have already happened around, so there is a minimum delay between reality and what we can perceive.

The hypothesis is that our mind tries to compensate for this delay, trying to predict what may happen in the next moments, then finding confirmations or contradictions when the new data arrives. This ability can be essential when dangers arise, for example, which require you to respond very quickly to avoid the worst. And you never know what you might encounter in the dark in a tunnel.

It's easy to say hole

A concept familiar to all becomes rather elusive when it needs to be defined: a straw, for example, how many holes does it have.

Asking a friend if the straw he's drinking from has a hole or two can be a great way to ruin his drink. Finding an answer that everyone agrees is not easy, and it can further complicate the debate. Does the glass that contains the Spritz technically have a hole? And how many holes do the taralli to accompany it have? And olives, do they have the same problem as straws? Ultimately, what is a hole really?

Our general knowledge of holes is rather incomplete and their definition has long kept philosophers, linguists and mathematicians busy. The word "hole" is used to mean quite different things, which usually have an opening of some kind in common: the keyhole, for example. In the philosophical field, on the other hand, there are some more complications, which derive from the difficulty in defining holes from the point of view of their existence.

Let's take one of the "taralli" from the aperitif: if we eat it entirely in one bite, have we also eaten its hole? The most logical answer seems to be yes, but what if we ate it gradually instead? In that case we would have broken the "tarallo", which would have lost its hole, and we would not have eaten it. This tells us that holes derive their existence and the very possibility of existing from their surroundings.

In a sense, and playing a little with words, holes can be called parasites: their existence depends entirely on the existence of something else. There cannot be a hole if there is not something enclosing it.

In everyday practice, things are simpler and everyone knows what a hole is when they hear about it. Engineers, who are quite practical types, distinguish between "blind hole" and "through hole": the former identifies an opening that only partially penetrates an object, while the latter a hole that passes completely through it. For these distinctions they usually prefer the term " hole ", basically a synonym for hole, but used above all to define something with regular margins and width: a hole in the wall made with a drill, for example.

Blind holes
A glass jar has a blind hole: it is the opening through which biscuits can be inserted and removed. Imagine being able to reshape it , as if it were made of plasticine, and change its shape - without removing material, adding or combining it - until it assumes that of a glass. We changed some of the characteristics of the object, but the blind hole remained: technically the glass has a hole, thanks to which we can fill it, empty it and drink.

Now let's imagine being able to shape the glass, widening it and reducing its height, to obtain a bowl. We are less inclined to think that a bowl has a hole, but if it was true for the glass, we can apply this definition also in this case. The bowl can then be molded into a deep plate, which would still have a blind hole as we understand it, and finally into a flat plate, which would have lost its opening instead. 

In this hypothetical experiment, in the transition from jar to glass to bowl to deep plate and finally to flat plate we never subtracted or added material, nor broke something or joined anything together (for example the edges of the opening). The material has always remained the same and has simply been remodeled: the blind holes can be removed without the need to close the opening that originates them, nor to weld the edges or to add other material.

Holes and topology Through
holes, on the other hand, are more complicated. The hole in a tarallo ready to be baked cannot be eliminated by reshaping it in the way we changed the shape of the glass jar, if not by crushing and welding together the dough that makes up the tarallo, or by adding more.

We can consider a tarallo as a close relative of the donut, which in turn is geometrically definable as a " toroidal " (empty inside). To obtain one, simply take a circumference and make it make a revolution around an axis external to it.

Defining a toroidal hole, and ultimately any through hole, requires some mental gymnastics, and among the most gymnastic in this area are mathematicians. Their training ground is the "topology", the part of geometry that deals with the study of the properties of mathematical objects, which do not change when they are deformed (as long as they do not create tears, overlaps and glues, as we have seen with the examples above ). This seamless modeling in topology is called “homeomorphism”.

In topology, a sphere and a cube are homeomorphic (i.e. equivalent) objects, because one can be deformed into the other and vice versa, without having to add material, glue or overlap it. On the other hand, a torus and a sphere are not homeomorphic, precisely because the torus has a hole that cannot be eliminated in any way with a simple deformation (no, closing the hole by bringing the parts together would not be a simple deformation).

These conditions explain the saying, to be honest, widespread almost exclusively among those who deal with these things, according to which "topologists do not distinguish a cup from a donut". The two objects are in fact homeomorphic: a donut can be obtained starting from a cup, simply by deforming the original object without gluing, creating tears or overlaps. The two objects are homeomorphic because they both have only one through hole (the blind hole of the cup, as we have seen before, can be eliminated).

For topologists, blind holes are not particularly interesting, since they can be eliminated, while through holes attract great interest, because they have unique characteristics that affect the way we can use geometric shapes.

How many holes
Returning to the aperitif, how many holes does a straw have? The question went viral on the Internet a few years ago, following a BuzzFeed article on the subject, which received a lot of attention in the United States. At the time, most people had replied that there were two holes, colloquially referring to the two openings in the straw.

In reality, a straw and a bull have only one hole. To realize this, just imagine modeling a bull by lengthening its shape, until you get that of a straw. The same holds true in reverse, imagining to reduce the height of the straw more and more, until you get a torus that will have a hole in its center.

In topological terms , a straw can be described as the product between a circumference S 1 and an interval I , which in turn can be defined as [0, L] (hence L defines the length of the straw). On the geometric plane, the circumference isolates a space that we can consider as a hole, because the only way to fill it would be by adding material or by welding / gluing some of its parts together. I , on the other hand, has no hole, and consequently the straw has only one hole.

Starting from these basic elements, which we have simplified a little while trying not to pierce the main concepts, not only can shapes and their transformations be mathematically described, but other important information on the properties of objects can also be derived. Homology, for example, allows the algebraic objects to be traced back to sequences of groups, which encode the quantity and type of holes present in each object. Taralli included.

Ti voglio bene

Nella marea di pensieri, scarsamente o affatto utili, che affollano la mia mente c’è un dubbio che mi attanaglia a fasi alterne. E sebbene ci siano cose infinitamente più urgenti od importanti su cui riflettere, non riesco a non perdermi in queste facezie verbali. Già perché la questione sorge attorno ad un dilemma linguistico, uno scherzo lessicale, una deficienza glottologica, insomma, qualcosa con o senza la quale potrei dormire sonni tranquilli. Ed invece mi cruccio. Ma riflettendoci bene non si tratta solo di parole, qualcosa è sotteso, o almeno io penso che qualcosa sia sotteso. L’amletico dubbio è perché nelle altre lingue non esiste un’espressione corrispondente al nostro “ti voglio bene”?

Io ho un grosso, grossissimo feticismo per la lingua italiana: godo nel leggere ed ascoltare la nostra favella, tuttavia non faccio fatica a leggere libri o guardare film in lingua originale. Sì, comprendo che per molti è un anche un grande, grandissimo limite, non per me, ma noi italiani non siamo perfetti, siamo poveri mortali pieni di mancanze e per molti, fra le altre, è questa. Non sopporto chi, pur avendo avuto istruzione o mezzi per istruirsi, non sappia parlare o scrivere nella nostra bellissima lingua natia; tuttavia tollero chi farcisce i propri discorsi di inglesismi, non perché rendano meglio il significato ma perché ‘è più moderno così’; ma soffro chi stupra l’italiano con storpiature ed errori grammaticali: sono un talebano dell’italiano, sì, signori miei, e me ne vanto!

Sono tuttavia consapevole del fatto che come tutte le lingue anche la nostra ha l’evidente limite di non saper rendere alla perfezione termini di altre favelle, motivo per cui una traduzione in italiano non sarà mai completamente fedele all’originale, non tanto per una questione di significati letterali quanto per allusioni culturali. La lingua è frutto di una costante evoluzione che si regge su migliaia d’anni di parole, concetti, usi e costumi, motivo per cui anche la nostra bellissima e flessibile lingua non saprà mai rendere appieno il senso di vocaboli come ‘improvement’, per dirne una. 

Viceversa, le altre lingue hanno lo stesso limite nei confronti della nostra, con un’aggravante significativa, non sanno tradurre un’espressione essenziale alla vita come il “ti voglio bene”. Correggetemi se sbaglio, non sono un linguista, ma il nostro “ti voglio bene” viene tradotto in inglese da “I love you”, in francese da “je t’aime”, in tedesco da “ich liebe dich”, in spagnolo da “te amo”, in sloveno da “ljubim te”, e così via. 

Ma questa espressione nelle rispettive lingue sta anche a significare “ti amo”, cosa che per un italiano ha un significato decisamente diverso. In una ipotetica ‘gerarchia’ di sentimenti il “ti amo” sta leggermente sopra al “ti voglio bene”, ha una connotazione più forte ed appassionata, più radicale e profonda; il “ti amo” è usata dagli amanti mentre il “ti voglio bene” dalle persone che, appunto, si vogliono bene. Il designer Pey-Ying Lin definisce il “ti voglio bene” come «the attachment for family, friends and animals», non contemplandolo quindi come “amore”.

Pei-Ying Lin, The Untranslatable Words Database

E noi italiani passionali (perdonatemi il cliché) conosciamo bene la differenza tra i due termini. La questione allora è: perché le altre lingue non riconoscono questa differenza? Perché non esiste un’espressione che indica il sentimento da noi riassunto nel “ti voglio bene”? Forse gli altri popoli non si vogliano bene senza amarsi? Forse sono così ottusi da non vedere la differenza lampante tra i due termini? 

Ma allora senza alcun dubbio noi italiani siamo non solo linguisticamente superiori, siamo addirittura emozionalmente migliori, sappiamo gerarchizzare qualcosa di così sottile ed evanescente come i sentimenti; sappiamo dare un nome ad ogni sensazione. Sappiamo dare nomi. Ecco. Per me qui sta il nocciolo della questione. Per me sappiamo mettere tanti nomi, ma non sappiamo riconoscere le cose. 

Non sappiamo capire che “ti voglio bene” significa “ti amo”; non sappiamo intuire che non c’è differenza tra i due concetti, che non esiste una gradazione di amore un po’ inferiore da dare a familiari, amici ed animali; non sappiamo comprendere che se diciamo “ti voglio bene” a qualcuno non lo stiamo mettendo in guardia sul fatto che proviamo qualcosa per lei  ma non così tanto da impegnarci troppo; non siamo in grado di percepire che dire ad una persona “ti voglio bene” significa donarle un pezzetto della nostra anima, allo stesso modo in cui lo diamo a chi amiamo e questa incomprensione genera l’abuso di questa espressione che sentiamo ogni giorno e lo spreco della nostra anima fatta a pezzetti da un’ignoranza lessicale.

Pensate bene quando dite a qualcuno “ti voglio bene” perché le state dicendo “ti amo”. Pensate se invece le direste “ti amo” e se la risposta fosse “no” allora non ditele “ti amo”, non ditele nulla. Non sprecate i vostri “ti amo” (o i vostri “ti voglio bene”, non c’è differenza). 

Conservateli per chi amate davvero.