Every morning when I start my day, I pray for the soul of my father. I put red roses on his grave and I kiss his grave soil and I think: where I kiss is heaven.

God bless my father. His holy words were as if from messengers: they remain in my mind. The friends my father chose for me will never leave me. Once he told me: “These friends won’t forget you until you forget them.” Those friends were the books he gave me.