Okay so I found my dead grandfathers journal from 56 years ago. This is some old stuff, okay, and I was like yeah Im gonna read a page or two.
Basically he wrote down this road trip he did with a friend of his (name is Giulio) but at some point it gets so weird.
Ill try my best to translate it from italian to english (english is not my first language) and well, Im also having a hard time trying to read my gandpas writing cause he wrote like a drunk snail.
Now, beware, my grandfather was an italian man dedicated to work, church, work and work, who believed in the traditional family and all that Jazz. But at some point I reach this part where he writes: yesterday me and Giulio slept in the same tent as mine was stolen at the gas station. As it was really cold, we slept close. In the middle of the night I realized that the warmth next to me did not belong to my Nadia (his fiancé at the time, my grandmother). It was the most intense feeling Ive ever felt.
