The first sentence Eddy said to me, looking into my eyes, as soon as he met me: I will die among my sheep. I immediately thought that he was not really talking about death, but about life. About his life but also about life in general. I didn't really fully understand what he meant at the time-I mean, I knew what it meant in a world devoted to personal success to love one's profession, but I hadn't contemplated the idea of making one's work one's life. Because the pastor doesn't clock out, he doesn't close up store, he doesn't go to the beach on vacation. The shepherd is a shepherd in the light of the sun and the moon, in front of the reddest sunsets and the darkest rainy skies, in the mountain pastures, but also in bed at night, in the darkness of a field in the countryside of Somma Lombarda. Once a shepherd, always a shepherd, whether it is during herd vaccination or on Instagram, showing people the simple essence of existing in contrast to the thousands of useless complications we create for ourselves every day. Shepherd one is also when, in front of a seasoned cheese, crispy guanciale, a demijohn of wine and a coffee from a mocha on the stove of a small but cozy trailer, one is thinking and telling about one's loves, a companion, a child, sometimes even calling them to tell them that at Christmas they will come back a half day to look them in the eye, because for shepherds love is an absolute concept and everything has its meaning in the natural dimension
So this is the story of Eddy, his temporary coworker Roberto, Moro, Maya, Tim, the donkeys and the sheep, how watching them changed the way I think about the world and, most importantly, how a shepherd, before he died among his sheep, lived there.