I always liked the gulls, despite their noisy arguments and grumpy look. Seeing them glide on the wings of the wind or rest peacefully on the stormy sea is a pleasure that brings me back to my youth when I was lucky enough to meet Felipe.
One day I was at Alassio's house, whose glass balconies looked out to the sea. I was scattering some crumbs of panettone left over from Christmas lunch when a lonely seagull which flew over the area, eyeing my moves, perched on the handrail, attracted by the free meal. He had no fear and began to peck almost immediately. My father named him Felipe because his eyes were blue as the namesake child of an Italian television series. From then on, Felipe was a regular guest on our balcony.
Our permanent residency was in Milan, we only went to Alassio for the summer and a few weekends during the year, but whenever we arrived and opened the windows on the balcony, Felipe was there. He greeted us with a lively Squeak, confident that he would get some titbit.
Later on, in my life I experienced a really tough time: my mother fell gravely ill and the home by the sea remained closed for many years.
Then one day, a long time after, I went back to the house in Alassio for a short holiday with the man I had just met and who would later become my partner.
Upon our arrival, we opened the windows on the balcony to ventilate the apartment; shortly afterwards we heard a familiar Squeak. Felipe was back again, after such a long time, to welcome us with his blue eyes, like an old, dear friend saying joyfully: Finally! Good to see you! What’s good for breakfast?
I have never forgotten Felipe, to whom these works are dedicated.
I now live in Ireland, close to the ocean. Every time I see a seagull, I like to think that Felipe, beyond time and logic, is back to greet me and find out what's on the menu....