Memories are there for the mind to soak itself, in waters so murky or translucent, that feelings will continue to haunt and create sensations for the body to feel.
Alessio is feeling upon this day the pain of hardness. Though, it is in a meditative state. For he is sitting with his eyes buried in the written words of a newspaper, and his right hand touching a cup of coffee needed for his morning to be wakeful. The newspaper is laid upon the table before him, and his apartment creeks with the groans of oldness, what with the season out-of-doors being Autumn. For it is that the wind is brushing itself, as though to kiss, the exterior of this abode.
He had moved here from Italy in the act to escape from a past ridden with needless complexities. And, for another reason, that is to begin his own life, without the former reason keeping him from pursuing new interests.