I met Emanuele twenty-three years ago at work. We dated briefly but intensely, just over a year, before he decided to return to Naples because he missed his city and Aurora, his girlfriend, who later became his wife.

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Since that day, I've never missed my annual visit to Naples, especially during the Christmas season, when San Gregorio Armeno becomes magical. But above all, for him. For his infectious charm. For his ever-ready joke. For his ability to improvise and master any task with surprising results. A sincere friend, with that Neapolitan sense of hospitality that we, cold northerners, don't know where to find. And not just from him and Aurora: his mother, Carmela, also always welcomed me like a son. And like any self-respecting Southern mother, she never let me return home without the food package.

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Fifteen years ago, Emanuele was diagnosed with a very rare, genetic tumor. He was given six months to live, they said. An aggressive tumor that remains silent and, without warning, when it awakens, attacks vital organs and consumes you day after day.

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But Emanuele decided to fight. To never give up. Ever.

Not even today, when he's in a wheelchair because his legs can no longer support him. Not even today, when he's battling unspeakable pain, but he continues to smile and be the same Emanuele he always was. With his wit. With that light in his eyes that no illness has managed to extinguish.

On February 29, 2026, on a day that doesn't exist, he turned fifty. I attended his party with his lifelong friends, those who never left him alone. Along with his mother, Aurora, who watches over him day and night, and his two teenage children, Elisa and Salvatore.

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This book is dedicated to him.
Because in life you should never give up.