Pierced by a sun ray

I promised him I would come in the spring. By the time I was done with my cancer treatment and able to travel again, I was four months too late. I ended up spending a week in his MPI office, looking through the writings he left behind: one week for an entire lifetime. That’s when I started writing this piece. On the small board outside the door of his office, along with his photograph and the cover pages of his recent preprints, he had posted a copy of Quasimodo’s poem Ed è subito sera. Indeed, even after a long life full of so many remarkable achievements, that final nightfall still comes very suddenly and unexpectedly. It still comes much too soon. There was still so much joy of life, of thought, so much energy and creativity left in him, up until the very end of his life.