Lucio Dalla walked among people like a silent friend, gathering glances, scents, and suspended phrases.
He loved real life — the kind that makes you laugh, tremble, hope — and from every detail, even the faintest one, he knew how to let a song be born.
His notes carry the smell of cafés, the noise of train stations, the melancholy of rented rooms, the sudden wind of the sea.
The happiness he speaks of is true, imperfect, human, alive.