{"title":"Matteo de Mayda","description":null,"products":[{"product_id":"brilla-sempre","title":"Brilla sempre","description":"\u003cp\u003eFirst edition of Brilla sempre by Matteo de Mayda (2025)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFirst impression \u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLarge format paperback in new condition \u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eExposed spine\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cmeta charset=\"utf-8\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e24x30 cm\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e48 pages\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch2\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAbout\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/h2\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cmeta charset=\"utf-8\"\u003eMy mother passed away on March 28, 2023, after eighteen years of illness. Her name was Serenella. Her identity card listed her as a “cleaner.” She earned a living cleaning buildings—stairs, courtyards, parking lots—in Treviso, our hometown in Northeast Italy. She would clean tirelessly, then come to pick me up from school on her Ciao moped, the kind you had to pedal to start. She rotated a series of identical tank tops, a sort of uniform. I remember her, glowing with sweat and happiness.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIn the months after her death, I photographed the places where she had worked, places she had taken me to as a child. It felt like group therapy, the building managers were the therapists, the residents their patients. Each of them had a fond memory of her.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Matteo de Mayda","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":58001879728510,"sku":null,"price":22.0,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0592\/2593\/1985\/files\/BrillasemprebyMatteodeMayda.jpg?v=1789047929"}],"url":"https:\/\/www.setantabooks.com\/collections\/matteo-de-mayda.oembed","provider":"Setanta Books","version":"1.0","type":"link"}