When he was a child growing up in Emilia-Romagna, my great-grandfather Marco once found an eagle fledgling that had fallen from its nest. He kept it warm in the folds of his shirt and ran home, only to discover as he undressed that the bird had eaten strips of his flesh, its beak tinged red with blood.
The rescued eagle thrived in my great-grandfather’s care, its wingspan soon a remarkable length. And all the while, Marco himself grew immensely tall. Then, one day, without warning, the eagle flew away.
