Rodolfo Zitellini

Leopard spots.

Last fall my mother came to visit me in Switzerland, hoping for some sun but having to enjoy the never-ending rain we have in Fribourg. It was early October, and we promised each other to remember to call Walter, one evening, while together. Every evening, we forgot. On the last day Rita received the news of Walter’s passing, a week prior. He would have never answered that phone call.

Walter left a couple days before us in our last visit in 2015, and he very kindly let us stay in his apartment until our plane back home. Leaving, he said arrivederci, as we helped him into a cab. There was something sadly disadorn to Walter’s beautiful flat without Walter being there, as if it was he that brought the light and warmth to it. I could not imagine that place without him. It was as if we could not turn on the lights anymore.

Closing the door of his house, at the moment of leaving, I gave a last look into the gray sleepy room. For a moment I could see it once again, the many times I was there as a child: warm, colorful, and friendly, with Walter welcoming us there. In that long instant I could watch the numerous dinners we had together, his bookshelf that fascinated me so much, the painting over the dining table that would continuously change form and position, the smell of old wood and the smells coming from the small kitchen, the sound of chatter and laughter. For an instant it was colorful and luminous again. Arrivederci. I closed the door. This was the last time I met Walter Pitman, “Zio Walter”.

Before leaving Walter’s house, in the mild summer of 2015, we stocked his fridge with his favorite beer. To this day I hope he enjoyed the last spots the Leopard left for him.

(Rodolfo Zitellini)