This is the second Christmas I’ve spent apart from my family. Last night, the nuns who run the place I’m staying in made some sweets for us. At midnight, we went to Mass with said nuns in a private chapel where a priest celebrated the holy mass. At noon we had the same lunch as always: potatoes and soup. In the afternoon, I went to the lager where Agostino and Ciccillo were staying, they invited me to play the guitar. The French put on a performance, a lovely performance that involved the French, a Greek man, a Spaniard, and a Russian woman who danced and sang very well. There was a French man who played the piano very well, another played the violin, there was a jazz band, plus a man from Sparanise and I played the guitar. It was a wonderful show, there were over 400 people of different nationalities in the audience. They had a lot of fun. I wanted to have fun but wasn’t able to because I kept thinking about home, especially on memorable days like this! I recall the five Christmases I spent with my darling wife. What happy days they were! And now we’ve spent two Christmases apart, far away, and without any news of each other. For 15 months I’ve been away, I haven’t been able to see my dear children and their mother. I hope they are at least healthy, and that they have everything they need. I pray to God that this destruction will end soon and that I will survive all the dangers that loom over us. Not a day passes without the siren going off two or three times, even last night on Christmas Eve, and today on Christmas, at noon while we were eating we had to run to the shelter, it’s continuous.