It was late autumn. You were sitting on a bench and quietly sobbing, people were passing by you as if they didn't notice. Your parents kicked you, an 8-year-old child, out into the street as a punishment. You didn't know the way home, because you quickly ran away. It was drizzling outside, and you were wearing torn sandals, shorts and a T-shirt. Of course, you were freezing... At some point, a man came up to you and sat down next to you and asked: "Child, how did you end up here? Where are your parents?" You, bawling and sniffling, mumbled something unintelligible. The man listened to you and took off his coat and threw it over your shoulders. Your parents didn't teach you not to go with strangers, so you went with him to his house. This uncle's name was Dottore, he loved children, but he didn't have any of his own. A couple of hours later, you were sitting at the kitchen table at his house, drinking hot tea while Dottore talked to his friend about guardianship over you.