A letter to parents, teachers, and all who encounter the story of Malanova. To the School, which, along with the Theater, is the place where we become citizens; to the young people, directly to them, because they are human beings in search, with whom we must ally. This letter, like a furrow made with a pen, aims to create discourse around love. It wants to carve a groove as a natural, strong, honest mark so that after this passage, in the earthen crack made of words, seeds can be sown. How can we speak of love to the new generations? The love that involves the body and our entire biography? What words, what practices, what stories are chosen to convey and bear witness to its power? For us, the authors of this work, it happened like this: by resisting and yielding, never hiding our own fragility... Never ignoring the state of the word about love and the body, which is the subject of a media, commercial, devaluing campaign, evoked exhaustively through ambiguous, brutal messages, without any filter. Love of the body, with the body, for the body, is unequivocally deprived of narrative, teaching, and sacredness. The lack of care for this fundamental dimension, both personal, cultural, and political, is a grave neglect of responsibility. My own generation grew up within the same irresponsibility, within the same void of true conversation. Crime news, the last act of a dark story simmering in the unreachable depths of our country, brings violence and disrupted relationships to the forefront of the media scene, in a superficially sensational, temporarily scandalous way, without deep examination of the origins and destinations of the reported acts. So much unbearable, anesthetizing, and unspeakable experience of violation, of the squandering of vital energies, of the devastation of youthful innocence, has led us to dig where there is more darkness, into a story where a thirteen-year-old Italian girl was the victim; a story where we absolutely had to find the impulse to life, to salvation, to the desire to be loved and to live human relationships full of true breath, true touch, true union, to continue to engage with it as human beings and artists. In this work, we decided not to address the theme of men's brutality towards women, choosing to leave it in the background already rich with heart-wrenching details accessible to everyone with just a click of the mouse. We wanted to tell instead of that subtler, insidious, underground violence that manifests through the behavior of everyone, moving through words that poorly nurture an ingrained mentality, almost impossible to separate. Almost. Almost impossible. And on this "almost," theater can do a lot because it is made of words and body, because its emotional paradigm resembles love itself, and because theater was born as a place of human sharing, as a place of "humanizing." One goes to the theater to "become human." Why? Aren't we already human? Regardless of what we do, see, say, or achieve in our lives? No, it seems not, if at the origin of our civilization, someone thought it necessary to have a space to gather everyone, indistinctly, ritually. A space to feel. Stories liberate, generate catharsis, recreate a lost harmony through the sharing of a story, of common suffering, of rediscovering that emotional and sentimental measure that can keep us safe from tragedy. We tell the story of Malanova, a raw and unspeakable story, but as edifying as all complete stories, not merely celebratory or provocative. We tell the story of Malanova because it is not a story that simply happened in Southern Italy, but it is a story of Italy, taken as a whole, not of that country down there, but of our country everywhere, around any one of us. We tell the story of Malanova because hearing how another human being freed themselves from the attempt to suppress their spirit, through the annihilation of their body and desires, can make us believe, once again, in our humanity. And believing in this humanity, in the special compassion that is created in the theater, starting from the experience made there, is the greatest of sentimental educations; it is an act of love.