Chapter 2

That evening there wasn't even a breath of wind and the breeze had disappeared leaving room for a weak summer rain, even Mother Nature was crying for my house.

The only noise came from the singing of some cicadas, probably out of breath due to the excessive heat reserved for us by the climate.

Simurg hadn't returned yet even though the sun had now set but I wasn't sorry because I didn't want him to see me in that state, I wasn't used to crying.

To tell the truth, I had always tried to avoid this display of weakness and yet on that occasion I was about to give in.

How could it happen that my native home was completely destroyed? I couldn't believe it but, for once, I blessed the blindness that God had given me as it made it impossible for me to see the images of such a massacre.

While I was there on the terrace I began to travel with my mind and thanks to my hypermnestic syndrome I began to remember the sweet Viennese past.

I was born on November 9, 1989 just before 7.00 pm at the Vienna General Hospital in Währinger Gurtel 18-20, 1090.

My mother told me that as a newborn I had had a heart problem and only by a miracle had I survived.

After being discharged from the hospital together with my parents I returned to our apartment in the Hundertwasserhaus , a residential complex built by the municipality of Vienna between 1983 and 1985 which was located on the corner of Kegelgasse 34–38 and Löwengasse 41–43 in the 3rd district of Vienna, the Landstraße .

The building was colourful, lush and unusual with uneven floors in the corridors, around 250 trees and shrubs had been planted there which had become majestic over time.

A real park on the roof of the building.

The building had 52 apartments and 4 shops, 16 private terraces and 3 common areas. At the entrance to the structure there was a gold plate with the following writing:

"A painter dreams of houses and beautiful architecture where man is free and this dream becomes reality. 

 Hundertwasser"

Our apartment was on the top floor, in the right corner, and my parents had worked hard to make it as comfortable as possible despite it being small.

It was made up of a single space that joined the living room and kitchen while a narrow corridor on the right led to the private part of the house where first came my bedroom, immediately after that my parents' bedroom and finally the bathroom.

To complete the furnishings, there was a red wooden shelf placed against the wall in which many art and painting books owned by my mother were kept.

Luckily, ours was an apartment with a private terrace and there, in the summer, my mother Sissi painted the landscapes she saw through her magnificent green eyes.

She was a very beautiful woman, tall and slender with long, flowing black hair, an aquiline nose and pointed ears that often aroused my curiosity as a child.

What fascinated me most about her was her sweet and benevolent look, even in moments of difficulty she never lost her extraordinary smile which brightened up my days, making the darkest ones less bitter.

She had an extraordinary talent for painting that I learned to appreciate as I grew up and began to study art.

Her only subject was Vienna, the city in which she was born and lived and which she depicted in the most disparate and creative ways.

According to him, it had a soul of its own and if you paid attention, you could feel it breathing under your feet.

On the wall of their bedroom hung a faithful reproduction of the "Holy Family with a Shepherd", created shortly after my birth by my mother who had replaced the original faces with mine, hers and my father's.

That painting has always fascinated me, after all my mother had managed to reproduce it perfectly with the exception of the faces, which were modified for the occasion.

When I was a child I would sometimes stay alone at home so I would go to their bedroom and stare at that beautiful work in which our family was represented sitting at rest in an idyllic country landscape, with the child (i.e. myself) showing the look at the shepherd, with his back turned and his head in profile.

In the background on the right you could see the scene of the announcement of my birth to the shepherds and nearby the ox and the donkey, typical of the nativity.

In the painting I was represented as a child whose curious and innocent gaze was turned to the shepherd, whereas my mother's face showed fatigue while my father caressed my leg in a paternal manner while holding a stick tightly, a symbol of protection.

The warm and lively colors that my mother had used, displaying them well, gave the painting a notable liveliness.

When I was agitated I took refuge in that room to observe the painting which conveyed a certain calm, emphasized by the detailed rendering of the countryside.

Even though I was just a child, it seemed to me that the painting spoke and the figures portrayed within it seemed to move, almost as if they had a soul.

The truthfulness that permeated the painting was explained by the expressions of the characters modeled on life which did not appear artificial, on the contrary, they changed depending on the perspective from which they were observed in a perpetual game of glances and contrasts that transported the observer inside the Opera.

In that painting my mother had contained all the love, passion and happiness she felt for her family.

A fragment of her soul had detached itself from her and stuck into the painting, giving it that life that I felt in it.

I swear I saw her figure in the painting panting as she used to do when she painted on the terrace of her house, in those moments she entered into symbiosis with her work, becoming one with it.

Unfortunately, fate was not kind to her and during her lifetime she did not have the fame she would have deserved, in fact my father Franz, a high-level manager at the " Oesterreichische Nationalbank AG", the Austrian central bank.

He was a very thin man and his pale face was set off by short black hair, pulled back with brilliantine.

He wore round glasses with brown frames, I remember that he loved to spend a lot of time in the bathroom fixing his mustache under his small pointy nose.

From him I inherited the taste for elegance and dressing well, in fact I don't remember ever seeing him dressed badly.

She always knew what to wear unlike my mother who, as a good artist, didn't pay too much attention to those things.

Apparently they couldn't have been more different people, in fact my mother came from a poor family of ceramic artisans while my father belonged to one of the most important and wealthy families in the city.

My paternal grandfather was one of the best-known bankers in all of Vienna, feared and respected even by the highest-ranking politicians.

Despite this, they loved each other and I think it was precisely those differences that made them symbiotic with each other, after all, opposites attract.

My father hadn't batted an eyelid at trading the luxury apartment he'd lived in all his life for the little house we moved into once I was born.

My paternal grandparents were against the marriage and tried to prevent it in every way but he chose my mother.

His intelligence and the gift for mathematics with which he had been gifted by the Lord made him self-sufficient from an economic point of view.

My mother often told him that he had the wrong woman but he was convinced of the choice he had made and once in three he was even more determined not to return to his parents.

<< We'll get through it dear, don't worry. I want you to paint because you have a great talent and it doesn't matter if others don't see it, don't let anyone put out the fire inside you >> he repeated to her at dinner.

She didn't answer but her tears were worth a thousand words.

Once I grew up I attended school in the Landstraße district , I loved walking through the "Swiss Garden" which was home to large ponds, an alpine plant garden, a rosary and numerous exotic trees.

It was by far my favorite place in the whole city, especially the rosary where I spent many hours reading art books sitting on one of the many benches.

I often came home late and my mother sometimes scolded me because, absorbed in reading, I forgot to tell her.

She always got worried so it was up to my father to put the house back in order.

At dinner I loved hearing them talk about their wedding day, celebrated in Stephansdom , St. Stephen's Cathedral, the largest in the city.

My father's parents had spared no expense for the event as they wanted to celebrate their only son's wedding in the best possible way.

Despite their opposition to the event, once they realized that my father would not back down in his choice, they decided to get busy so as to make the rest of the city die of envy.

My mother said that the four towers, built in Gothic style, had been decorated with long white bows and from the " Steffl ", the tallest needle-shaped tower, a flag was flying with the names of the two spouses.

That day the bells rang in celebration, the " Pummerin " that is the most famous one rang alone while the other twelve rang in unison.

Where my paternal grandparents had really outdone themselves was in the decoration of the interior of the cathedral, built in Gothic style.

The central nave had been completely adorned with flowers and a long red velvet carpet showed the way to the future bride while the side chapels and the choir were covered with white ribbons embroidered in gold.

<< Wolfgang should have been there, it was a magnificent show >> my mother repeated;

<<I believe you>> I replied;

<<Thank goodness my parents were against the marriage, who knows what they would have organized if had agreed>> my father said;

I can't complain about my childhood, I always had art in my veins thanks to my mother and elegance thanks to my father and the family was always united, which I learned to appreciate only later when my parents came passed away due to a tragic car accident.

At Christmas Vienna was covered in snow and it was a family tradition to go to mass on the night of December 24th in the Rochuskirche , the church of San Rocco and Sebastiano which was located in our district where I was also baptized.

I loved seeing the snow-capped spiers of the tower, the white snow masterfully decorated the six large pillars.

At the center of the central external facade there was the statue of Sant'Agostino surrounded by monks and cherubs who welcomed those who came to the church.

Once inside we sat down in one of the oak benches located in the single nave in early Baroque style and we sat there listening to the mass celebrated by the priest on duty, in rigorous silence.

I often looked around while the religious preached so I could admire the presbytery with the majestic three-story high altar surrounded by statues of some saints.

On the side walls there were two large, finely decorated windows through which a white winter light filtered through which I let myself be lulled throughout the function.

In that period my mother used to cook " Zimtsterne ", very fragrant biscuits made with almonds and cinnamon made in the shape of a star and " Vanillekipferl ", very particular sweets made with almonds in the shape of a croissant.

The Christmas dinner was always rich and at the end came the inevitable " Christollen ", a cake similar to a panettone which sent my father and me into a jujube soup, as we used to gorge ourselves on it.

During the hot season my mother needed concentration and silence to paint so my father and I went to the " Kardinal - Nagl -Park" where we loved to take long walks at the weekend when he didn't work and I didn't go to school .

We liked playing in the play areas reserved for children, every now and then we talked about mother and her work.

<< One day she will become famous, I'm sure of it >> he told me.

Once he told me how they had met by chance, he remembered what happened very well because he jealously guarded that memory in his memory.

Before I started talking about it I saw a tear fall from his face, it was a scene that particularly struck me because he wasn't used to crying.

I was shocked but then I understood how important that memory was for him.

He was walking at the " Wiener Stadtpark ", the city park of Vienna and near the " Stadtparksteg ", the arched bridge that connects the Landstraße and Innere neighborhoods Stadt , saw her.

A young girl, sitting on a wooden chair, intent on painting the landscape with the canvas leaning against a recently turned on street lamp.

His face was stained with paint and his hair was tied up in a red handkerchief with his gaze fixed on the canvas, isolated from the outside world.

He approached her out of curiosity but then, when he saw her better, he was hit by a Cupid's arrow which pierced his heart. However, at first he didn't have the courage to say a word because as a young man he was very shy.

<< Dear Wolfgang, I have never felt a similar sensation, my stomach was upset and I felt lost, I didn't even remember who I was or why I was there.

I hope that one day you can experience something similar because it is a unique feeling, the kind of loss that every man should have at least once in his life.

Her face was illuminated by the light of the street lamp which highlighted her green eyes, she was really beautiful so I approached her to try to have a few words, you know, to break the ice but I really didn't know what to say to her, I looked like a street lamp too >> he said laughing with his cheeks red with emotion.

<< At a certain point your mother looked up, saw me and without saying a single word she got up from the chair, approached me and began to look me up and down. I was afraid he would hit me >> he added, putting a hand on his forehead.

<<What did you do?>> I asked;

<< I remember that I stammered: << Excuse me, miss, is the painting for sale? >>. I really didn't know how to get out of that embarrassing situation but luckily she understood how clumsy I was and that I wasn't there for the painting also because she had just started painting it >>;

<< In any case he said he would sell me the painting once it was finished so he arranged to meet me in that same place 21 days later.

Time seemed to stop but, after three weeks, I returned there where I found her intent on completing the painting so she gave it to me asking for money.

After paying it I continued to stare at it for several minutes with the painting in my hands, when your mother noticed it I think she understood that I wasn't interested in her art so she took the initiative and invited me to have a coffee.

From then on we saw each other more and more often, mainly in the park where I spent entire days and I loved seeing the light from the street lamp illuminate her face.

When I finally decided to ask her on a real date, she looked at me and said: <<It's about time, I was starting to run out of paint>>.

From then on everything was much simpler, we got engaged, we got married and in the end you arrived, little Wolfgang >> he concluded, wiping a tear from his languid eyes.

Before returning home we went to some restaurant to buy dinner because we knew that my mother, absorbed as she was in painting, often forgot to cook so it was up to us to take care of it.

Once I finished my studies it was time to make a decision about what job I wanted to do when I grew up but it wasn't very difficult.

I enrolled in the " Akademie der bildenden Künste Wien ", the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna where I initially chose the history of art and philosophy course.

Thanks to my eidetic memory I completed my studies a year early but, despite the numerous job offers I received, I extended my stay at the institute and decided to enroll in the restoration and conservation course.

That was one of the most beautiful periods of my life, being Viennese I could easily use the subway to move from the third district where I lived to the first where the school was and still is located.

The Academy was located in the "Academy Building" at Schillerplatz 3, 1010, the palace was built in the style of the Italian Renaissance with four floors with raised projections.

I loved spending time inside the art gallery where there were over 1600 paintings including works by Titian, Murillo, Guardi and many others.

I felt at ease among all those masterpieces, in particular I liked imagining the stories that were hidden behind each of them.

Another place I loved was the anatomical room in the basement of the Academy where I took refuge in the summer when the institute emptied and the students went home for the holidays.

I would go there and stay there for hours and hours immersed in silence, placing the books on the marble top of the dissecting table.

The classroom had desks arranged in a semicircle and received no daylight, which is why it was suitable for theory lessons. Furthermore, there was an almost mystical silence that helped me concentrate.

During that period I met my best friend, Gerd Wirtz , a tall guy with a rather pedantic look who over time I learned to appreciate.

Gerd was a boy with long black hair, he wore sideburns which were rather anachronistic for my tastes but which nevertheless met with a certain success among the girls of the Academy.

His brown eyes made him look like a wounded deer even though he actually had a rather heated temper, especially when he raised his elbow.

At first I didn't like him very much and at first sight I decided to discard him from the list of my potential friends. However, during his first art history exam he got into difficulty and in the end I decided to help him.

A peculiarity that I have always admired about Gerd was his gratitude, in fact after that unexpected help from me he never left my side again, he felt he owed me a debt and in the end, perhaps due to exhaustion, I decided to start seeing him.

In that period I was almost never at home but things were going pretty well, my mother was going through the most fertile period of her artistic career and my father was promoted so everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

I started frequenting some bars and clubs in the city nightlife in the first district where the academy was located, luckily the Vienna metro network was well developed and you could move easily from one place to another.

I remember that one evening we were very late, it was the first and only time I drank a little but there was a girl who attended the same art history course as me, Stefanie , she was British and I really liked her.

I wanted to impress her at all costs but things didn't go as planned.

That evening we all went out together and at a certain point I decided to give it a try so I went over to have a chat but she was really very drunk and as I was about to say goodbye to her, she turned towards me and vomited on my shoes.

It was a scene that was at times comical, at times tragic but I understood that it wasn't the right one for me but Gerd laughed a lot.

When we left the club he told me that he wouldn't be coming back with me that evening.

<<Why not?>> I asked;

<< Are you crazy by any chance? I don't go around with a guy who has vomit on his shoes >> he replied.

I thought he was joking but he was damn serious so I had to first clean my shoes with some makeshift handkerchiefs and then go back to my house in the third district, alone.

At the time I was quite disappointed by that episode but now that I think about it it was instructive, if it hadn't been for that incident maybe I would have gotten engaged to Stefanie and never met Sofia so I can consider myself lucky.

After obtaining my second degree the time came to find a job but fortunately for those who love art Vienna represents one of the ideal places to look for a job and my talent had not gone unnoticed within the Academy.

After the graduation ceremony I received a job offer from the Austrian Belvedere Gallery which was located inside the Belvedere palace.

It was truly a stroke of luck because the building was located in the district where I lived with my parents, the Landstraße and the Austrian Belvedere Gallery had one of the largest art collections in the world so I decided to accept without hesitation.

My mother had always dreamed of seeing at least one of her paintings exhibited in the gallery, specifically in the section dedicated to contemporary art.

When I told her the news she exploded with happiness.

<<I'm really proud of you>> she said, hugging me.

That evening I wanted to go out with Gerd to celebrate the good news but he was busy with his girlfriend so I decided to stay at home with my parents.

My father returned from work and furtively took refuge in his room, carefully avoiding being seen by myself.

When it was time for dinner I understood the reason for so much mystery: he had bought me a new suit, he had had it tailor-made by the best tailor in the city.

It was a suit with dark blue trousers, vest and jacket combined with a tie of the same color and a white silk shirt, completed with black loafers.

<< Your mother gave me the measurements, it should fit you. Know that we are both proud of you, the Belvedere is one of the most important museums in the world and working there means a lot to you and to us >> my father said, patting me on the shoulder;

<<Good son>> my mother added;

<< I just want to tell you that I would never have done it without your support, you have always helped me and I will be eternally grateful for this >> I replied, hugging them.

It was a truly touching moment, I remember it perfectly because as I held them close to me I felt the love and satisfaction they felt towards me.

I was proud of myself, of what I had managed to do and I had made them proud and this gave me enormous joy.

The following day I showed up at the museum to start work, I was very excited, my legs were shaking and once I arrived I was welcomed by Mr. Heinz, my boss.

I had been hired as assistant curator of a celebratory exhibition covering the section of the museum called "Around 1900" which represented the largest collection of Gustav Klimt paintings in the world.

For the Belvedere it was a source of pride to have such an impressive series of paintings by Klimt but it wasn't just him.

The museum had art collections of all types starting from the medieval period, in fact the Belvedere's art collection included works from the Romanesque period to the early modern period.

Among the most significant sculptures were the expressive " Sonntag Madonna " or the group of figures of the Großlobming Master .

There were collections of baroque artworks and individual paintings of original design, such as pictures by Johann Georg de Hamilton or Franz Werner Tamm .

The Belvedere had collections of classical, romantic, Biedermeier and historicist art however my favorite section was the one dedicated to realist and impressionist paintings.

I was in charge of the Klimt exhibition but in my free time I liked to admire the masterpieces of Monet, Renoir and Manet preserved in the museum.

When I arrived at the Belvedere, Mr. Heinz was anxiously waiting for me, the Academy had spoken very highly of me to him so he couldn't wait to put me to the test.

He was a fairly elderly gentleman in his sixties, with very well-kept hair and beard between gray and dark black.

His gaze revealed a constant suffering while the small wrinkles on his forehead could only be noticed by looking at him closely.

It seemed to me that I had already seen it somewhere but I couldn't remember where then one day, walking in the room dedicated to Monet, I recognized it in the work "The Cook".

It was really him, they looked like twins separated at birth, the contours and facial features of the work of the French genius were identical to those of Heinz.

<< Good morning >> he greeted me that morning;

<< To her >> I replied rather fearfully;

<< He arrived on time, a characteristic of my assistants that I appreciate, I hope he never loses this good habit.

Having said that, let's not get lost in useless chatter, there's a lot to work on >> he said, looking me up and down.

He turned his back and started walking briskly along the main path of the garden on the side of the lower Belvedere and, once inside, we went up the long white marble stairs that led to the upper Belvedere.

We had to set up a Klimt exhibition in the ground floor room of the upper Belvedere so Mr. Heinz and I had the task of selecting the paintings to exhibit.

<< The choice is yours, let's see what you learned at the Academy >> said Heinz.

I was quite nervous because I didn't have a favorite Klimt painting however I couldn't make a bad impression on the first day of work.

<< Don't be shy and hurry, we don't have all day >>;

<<Of course sir>>.

I couldn't make a mistake otherwise I risked being fired but if I had to expose myself I wanted to do it my way.

I chose some of Klimt's most famous masterpieces to which I added other less well-known ones, in this way the more famous ones would attract people while the lesser-known works would introduce some facets of the artist otherwise known only to experts.

<< Interesting choice, I must admit. Now he must select the work that will be placed in the center of the room >> said Heinz.

On that point I had no doubts about it and without thinking too much I selected "Judith I", an oil painting on canvas created by Klimt in 1901.

The subject was a metaphor for the power of seduction of women, which manages to overcome even the most brute virile strength.

Staring at the painting I realized that the face of Klimt's "Judith I" possessed a notable charge of seduction which overwhelmed me the moment our gazes met.

His features, transfigured in order to reach the maximum level of intensity, made me understand that he was in a dimension unattainable to ordinary mortals like me.

I felt that in that fascinating woman there were enigmatic energies dormant that could not be appeased once what was forced to remain dormant had caught fire.

Giuditta's body was wonderful, masculine and gaunt, it seemed to relax and lengthen, thin and supple, with dark eyes, a fiery gaze and a cruel mouth.

I selected that work because the woman represented there exerted a magnetic charm on me, an attractive power similar to gravity and the charisma that her gaze emitted reminded me of that of my mother.

<< Excellent choice, the references made by the Academy about him were well justified >> complimented Mr. Heinz, shaking my hand;

<< Thank you >> I replied breathing a sigh of relief.

We moved the paintings to the ground floor room of the upper Belvedere, an enormous space of white marble and after arranging the works in a semicircle we placed "Judith I" in the center of the room right in the middle of the four columns depicting four powerful marble atlases that supported the ceiling vaulted ceiling of the room, richly stuccoed.

<< Very good Mr. Wolfgang >> said Heinz once the exhibition was finished;

<< Thank you, sir >> I replied, giving him an awkward bow.

Over time I got to know him better and discovered that he wasn't as bad as I had initially seemed, in fact, he was a very easy-going person who liked to tell jokes.

During work he was inflexible but once the shift was over he had no problem laughing and joking with me and the other museum workers.

How many laughs I had the pleasure of having thanks to the humor of that great man, looking back now I wonder what happened to him.

My parents came to the museum many times because my mother loved seeing me at work, it was thanks to her that I loved art.

I stayed at the Belvedere for several years and during that period I had the opportunity to meet the directors of the most prestigious museums, my fame in the art world began to grow so I soon began to receive many invitations to go abroad.

I replied that sooner or later I would go to visit them even though I was fine in Vienna and saw no reason to leave.

Gerd meanwhile finished his studies at the Academy but, to my great disappointment, decided to refuse my proposal to work together at the Belvedere.

He decided to accept a job offer from the Uffizi in Florence, when I found out I took it personally but then I understood his choice.

<<So you stab me in the back>> I said jokingly on the day of his departure for Italy;

<< My door will always be open for you, come and visit me whenever you want >>.

We greeted each other warmly, while I watched him board the plane for Italy I thought I would never see him again.

I was grateful to him because he had introduced me to a side of Vienna that I would otherwise never have seen, such as the bars, clubs and nightlife in general.

If I had remained in my little world I would never have gone to those places, unlike Gerd I wasn't a very party person, in fact I would define myself as rather boring but perhaps it's the condemnation of those who feel good about themselves.

When I returned home I saw my mother absorbed in painting so I decided to have dinner out, that evening my father would be working late so I had some free time to dedicate to myself and I didn't mind it.

I savored some delicious Wiener Schnitzel ", breaded veal escalopes accompanied by potatoes, when I saw a young couple enter the restaurant.

At first I didn't notice, however, observing them carefully, I realized that it was indeed Stefanie with her boyfriend.

<< Curious coincidence >> I thought while continuing to eat.

They took a table not far from mine so I was able to eavesdrop on some of their conversations and what struck me was the fact that they both spoke another language.

He only spoke English while she mixed German with a bit of English, evidently she was just learning it but they were very close and this struck me

<< I could have been there instead of that boy >>.

At the time I didn't give much thought to what happened but in the following days and weeks I couldn't get that event out of my mind.

It was as if a worm had entered my brain and started to burrow from the inside and the most frustrating thing was that I didn't understand why it had remained imprinted in my mind with such vividness and...

<< Wolfgang looks who is there? >> I heard someone familiar say.

I returned to the present shaken by Sofia's voice, absorbed as I was in my thoughts I hadn't realized Simurg 's return .

<< How long...? >> I asked;

<< He's been caressing your hand for a while but you weren't moving so I got worried >>;

<<I'm fine, I was just immersed in memories>>;

<< I hope they were beautiful >>;

<<Enough >>.