If I used my grandmother visited, I often went for a walk with her in the fields outside the village.
We were talking mostly about what is happening around us, animals and plants that we saw. Sometimes my grandmother pointed out to me when they saw a bird of prey in the sky. Dark silhouettes moved slowly down large circles and fired abruptly after chasing a mouse.
Especially the red kites had it done to her, she said. Because they are rare, and because it is between the other birds immediately attracted attention.
As we stood between the fields and our view wander across the plain to the horizon, made them pointed at a Milan, whose outline looming in front of the dazzling summer sky:
"When I am dead and you see a red kite, you know that I am."
And now every time I see a bird of prey, I hope it is a red kite.
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