Practically everyone has written something about Luciano Berruti. They have written with kindness, grace, spirit and, most of all, with affection; a wealth of sentiment that has invaded every inch of the internet, each post with a photo of a smiling Luciano, the most photogenic subject, looking good in every single shot and pose.
Because I don’t think anyone was, and is, so well-loved as Luciano. It was a unanimous love that had even ceased to surprise Sofia, his wife, who had to deal with the daily routine of a husband who was anything but routine.
However, I would like to talk about a rare person, a wholesome character with a huge soul, along the lines of Gandhi. I don’t want to mention his heart for the simple reason that he left it on the road; but his was a heart that had given so much that I might even undertand his leaving us so soon. But I’ll never excuse him, it was too soon to lose a person who was one of the happiest that I have ever known.
Because Luciano was a beautiful person, good, with a wealth of values and sentiments, full of the joys of life, an image that death will never erase. But to write such things means repeating what everybody already knows, it's like adding honey to the flow of our already sweet tears.