Time passes in the Tuscan countryside, slowly, the way I like it. Drifting further away from the thought of returning, further away from the hurtful memories. It happened here, but strangely enough it's easier to deal with it when I'm away from home. Everything back there is tainted with the poison of lies and fairytales, here the truth seems so much more obvious.
Dad wants to talk to me but I keep pretending I'm not in when he calls. My aunt forwards my words because she thinks I'm on her side whem I'm really standing in the middle. She should understand why he's afraid to come back, but somewhere she must have forgotten, and she just blames him for being so far away. I guess they love each other more than they dare admit.