It was All Souls’ Day, and Rome had woken up under the rain. It makes you wonder, sometimes, the way Nature manages to read into the heart of the world and chooses to dress in mourning to match the sorrow of her children when it’s needed.  

It wasn’t cold, in Rome, that morning. And some may have even enjoyed the melancholic, languid, poetic romanticism of a day dedicated to remembrance and love, to death and hope, sketched as it was in the silvery violet hues of an autumnal sky, if it wasn’t for the piercing void left by the too-recent departure of someone the whole country admired. It was All Souls’ Day, twenty five years ago, and Italy was about to say goodbye to one of his most beloved children, Federico Fellini.