From the diary of SEBASTIAN R.
June 1975
I wanted to win. I wanted to win at any cost, that I paid me or not. I also agreed to be the chosen one but I, moreover, has never happened that the winner of the race was also the chosen one. They are two different people. Always have been. Should be. Who wins lives. And with the city he lives. And who dies ... well die because the city is reborn. Strong reborn in all its traditions, its size This and all the glory of his past. The glory of the battle of Vallinfreda victory against the Farnese, the glory of the battle won in Montopoli against the Orsini. The glory of a free fair. The glory of decades and decades of freedom. I do not know who will die, nor do I feel responsible for her death. I have been asked simply to run. And fate has given me Capablanca, the best horse possible. I did not choose me. In the end I did not even think about it I won. He did all the horse. No hesitation to any curve. It is always thrown in as if the victory was necessary and risks, all risks, non-existent, useless as a mediocre life. A Bridge Over I was before. Compressive via any of the banks' other ward was even remotely competitive. It was obvious. No alternatives. Necessary as life. God must like the entrance to the mouth of San Marco when darkness has swallowed me trembling like a child. I won, I already knew I had won, and I had a fear infinite. A nameless fear. On the square everyone expected my victory but no one in the bottom of his heart he hoped it was real. What really happened. A miracle, an accident, rain, a Hamstring, would have preferred any nonsense. But in reality everyone knew that I would have won. The silence that accompanied my entry in the square will never forget. My people betrayed me. Betrayed my future. I'm only 17 years. Only 17 years old. Yesterday, today celebrated the victory and the first began to tell me that I armed the hand of the assassin. That for the glory of myself and of my people, for the venerable district of Ponte, had sacrificed an innocent person. But they did! I wanted them for the race. They wanted to win. They thought I was the best rider possible. The draw put me on that horse. I have nothing to do. I have only gone along with that demon. I used the whip only the start. Three lashes and all. The rest of the time I spent in Reggio. I have nothing to do. I. I. I. I did not want that.
