Occhio di bue
BULL’S EYE

I found a bull’s eye, staring straight into my eyes. I found it disjoint into three parts, each one lying in a different location. Even divided, it stared back at me, as if it already knew me, which is why I gathered and rejoined the sections. Once reunited, the bull’s eye began to narrate again, to speak of itself, emanating its own story, which, as if by magic, was mine. The story of my family reflected in the black, shiny globe that was scrutinizing me.