Valeria is seven years old and has many candles to blow out. Valeria does not know what sobriety is: she is a real party girl and as such loves parties. Whether it’s birthdays, name days, weddings, even the birthday of the goldfish, it doesn’t matter to her. She always has to celebrate something. And then there is Christmas, for Valeria the letter for Father Christmas has to be written as early as August, just in case there are delays with the mail in Lapland.
Valeria also loves lions. Stuffed, on TV or in the flesh, she watches them with admiration, imitating their roar. Who knows, maybe she feels she resembles them. In fact, Valeria is really strong, and also quite fast. All talents that she uses to the utmost of her ability to cause an interminable series of mischiefs, creating scenes like a true cabaret actress. Valeria is kisses, immense hugs, intense glances, she is a thousand ‘I love yous’ said in a sweet voice that fills the heart.
Valeria is also a fridge door always open, playing at being the chef in her restaurant, which she says is always closed, the desire to sing her favourite songs in her own way, the desire to be with other children, impetuousness, Olympic throws of random objects and then a thousand ‘I’m sorry’ always said in a sweet voice. Valeria is fantasy that makes its way overbearingly into a memory that begins to waver, imagination that struggles not to be suffocated, walls written in colours and an abstract painting to rival Picasso, a fairy tale read by her mother before bed so as not to lose its link with reality or perhaps with a fairy world.
Valeria has strong legs that do not give up, she is imprecise jumps on the trampoline, she is a bike that does not know how to pedal. Valeria is laughter, the kind of laughter that is clear, free and contagious enough to fill one’s eyes with tears. Such laughter cannot go to waste. Inside this laughter is the future of the Sanfilippo children. Let us help Valeria, may she never stop laughing again. And may she blow a thousand more candles.