`` it 's in my memory like it happened yesterday was sunday afternoon , my mother was from a friend , i went home with duilio ; i have in mind the unnatural silence ; from the half-open door of his study , we saw filter the light of the table lamp on ; i called him , no answer , entered and duilio was , first , to see him lying on the floor next to the desk ; looked towards the door , with his head resting on the pillow of the chair and clasped hands as if he were reciting a prayer , his eyelids half open , staring ; i touched him , his hands were cold , while her back was still warm ; even for a moment i thought to its end ; i rushed to the phone to call an ambulance ; the doctors said he was dead ; agents arrived ; kept us and i never saw him again ; agents checked the papers , listened to our testimonies and those of the tenants of the building , took some photographs , and covered the body , called the car of the mortuary who came and took him away . ''