Not minding the snow or the traffic around them, others stroll around peacefully, like local gods. Not far from them or the crowded bus stops is a little pre-fabricated newsstand, which looks like it’s been attacked by an army of advertising posters. The owner’s wrinkled face can barely be seen peeking out from behind the stacks and stacks of magazines. When the kids appear before her, the woman can barely keep herself from running out to hug them. “I was so worried!” she cries. She points at the first page of Il Messaggero and says, “When I saw that photo this morning, I almost fainted! That looks just like your uncle’s raincoat. …” Elettra, Sheng, Mistral and Harvey try to avoid the subject. “I’m so relieved! I’m so relieved!” Ilda says, sighing. “I haven’t seen him for days now, and if you hadn’t called me, I’d have stopped by to take a look in his house tonight.” “It’s a good thing we called you, then …,” Elettra says softly. Ilda disappears into the depths of the newsstand and starts to rummage around in the plastic containers full of magazines.
