Beatrice was in a lighter mood today.
When she is not lost in bitter memories of her past she is a very pleasant teenager: she’s bright and intelligent, she even smiles sometimes. But you can always feel the pain and the sorrow around her, you can always see the black light in her eyes, and that never fails to sadden me: I wish she could progress faster, I wish I could treat her better.
She shared some positive memories of her childhood, especially of her relationship with her father: as it usually happens for female children, she used to see him as her example, her hero. She doesn’t have concrete memories of things she used to do with him, like bike riding or playing soccer, but she has a very vivid recollection of feelings: how she admired him, how wise he was and how many things he knew and he could explain her. She remembers his eyes, the way they always accompanied his smiles.
When the hero dies, all hopes die with him. It’s like seeing Superman or Captain America killed by their greatest enemy: an unbearable tragedy.
With the best hopes for the future,
Dr. Alexander Williams