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The gun is made, days of work done. You curl up on the sofa, and shut your eyes in slumber.

You dream of the day when you finally opened your workshop. It is just an inconspicuous shop in an inconspicuous corner of Via Borgos, but you are incomparably content that you have it at all.

Your life is inextricably connected to guns. They saved you, became your companions, and today they are a pillar of your life. You are grateful for all that they have brought you.

That day, you take a photo with Patrizion. He holds that large-caliber revolving antique gun and bears a foolish grin on his face, as Gia holds the camera, asking the both of you to tone your smiles down. So immersed in joy you two are, it is an impossible feat.

You frame the photo just as you frame both Patrizion and Gia in your future, along with the guns, for ever and ever.