Leonella Falcone is sixteen. Not a nun, no vows taken.
The black robe was sewn by myself, and the collar was cut from an old tablecloth.
She lived in the church in Naples for nine years. Clean the candlesticks, steal cookies, and eat two ice cream balls every Thursday.
That day the church confessional door was ajar.
A Japanese cartoonist sat in and was so frightened by the ghost story on the other side of the partition that he fell out.
Naila came out from behind the pillars, grabbed his wrist, and said: You smell of death. You will die. Then there is reincarnation. Until he failed.
Then he came to see her four days in a row. On the fourth day, at the pier, he took off a pen earring and clamped it on her left earlobe.
He said: I will write to you. Use blue ink. Because the color of your eyes is like the sea of Naples.
Then he got on board.
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The day goes on in Naples.
The priest gave her some money and she left the church and went to the old town on another dock.
She often went to buy ice cream near a school. By chance, she stood in line behind a teenager.
The boy ordered pistachio and chocolate ice cream, double balls, just like her. Then he felt in his pockets and found no money.
Naira paid for him.
Later she discovered that this man named Giorno Giovanna drank coffee without sugar but with a piece of chocolate pudding, and he could also stuff his ears into his own piercings. They started going to the dessert shop together every Thursday. Occasionally I go on Wednesdays.
Naira thinks this is nothing. It's not easy to find someone in Naples who tastes the same food.
He didn't tell her that he was a student or anything, and she didn't ask.
There is an unwritten rule in Naples: Don't ask about things happening in the city. She has known it since she was a child.
But some things just don't come to her without asking.
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What God didn't tell her, Naples did.
Purpose: Suffering is never spared, but she has not spared suffering either