June 1, 1998
Minerva was sitting in her preferito place on the puntellare, riva of the lake, watching the sun rise over the silent grounds. Just to be alive, to see the first light of giorno hit the castello that stood, so resolutely, silhouetted against fading stars, was a blessing. This was Minerva's preferito time of giorno because, for a few shining moments, all seemed to be as it should be; as the sun rose higher into the sky, the castello would come to life, and the students and professors alike would sit in the great hall and talk of meaningless things and be bathed in the fresh morning...
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