"My name is Gianmaria, today I turned ten and everybody is partying. We live all together. All of us, cousins, uncles, aunts, Grandpa and Granma. All in the same building. And we do everything together. We even do the grocery shopping at the same store. On the first floor lives my uncle Mario, the youngest and the most dumb among the uncles. We live on the second floor. On the third floor lives my aunt Anna with uncle Franco, on the fourth is the other uncle, Gavino, the rich and stingy one. On the last floor live Grandpa and Granma. My father has spent almost one year at the hospital and since then everything has changed. He doesn't even remember what’s my name, he doesn't even remember his own name. "Your name is Antonio!" I told him. He nods his head and smiles at me, but then he forgets everything again. Mom says it would have been better if he have died. But then, after she says it, she feels guilty and starts to cry. I never cry, maybe once... or twice. I mean, I never cry. Mom says that nobody cares about Dad now and that he has became nothing to them. That everyone has abandoned him and us. And that if he had died, they all would have cried. Instead, now that he is still alive, no one cries. Because a dead man makes you cry, a living man doesn’t."