Milano. September 17th, 1932
Dear diary, my name is Mario. Like my father. I entered this world in 1932. The place: Milano. It is tough times and my family was only too happy to get rid of me, and soon enough signor Sarfatti, one of the the most fashionable men in town, took me off their hands.
He enjoys carrying me on his shoulders and parading around with me. All the ladies come and give me loving caresses - because I am so soft to the touch. And of course Sarfatti loves the attention.
Milano. June 21st, 1943
I have been more and more on my own lately. The fascists are deporting jews and other minorities and today signor Sarfatti....was suddenly gone.
Milano. June 23rd, 1943
Where is signor Sarfatti?
Milano. June 26th, 1943
I am all alone.
Milano. July 4th, 1943
Grazie!!! I am rescued by a Hungarian street-musician named Janos. He used to play for kings and princes at the Royal Opera House in Budapest.
But a brutal interrogation in Vienna cost him the ringfinger of his left hand... and his musical career. Now, he entertains street crowds for pennies and cheap cigarettes. Janos is no longer a virtuoso, but the handicap gives him a bittersweet sound that is only his! His violin whispers and cries like no other. Cries for us. For Europe. For the world.
Paris. May 16th, 1944
Dear Diary. Janos was on the run - but he did not leave me behind. The border to France was closed, so we took a small boat with other refugees to Nice, and then by train to Paris!
Paris. July 5th, 1944
Oh Paris, the lights, the smells, the incredible beauty and the reckless joie de vivre of these nervous times. If time could stand still, these are the days I will freeze - and live in forever. No war, no death and starvation, no deportation.
Lisbon. November 14th, 1945
Time moves on, and we were forced to as well. Lisbon is the harbour of freedom for so many, and we are among the lucky 200,000 Europeans that have found passage from here over the Atlantic to America.
New York. September 22nd, 1949
The New World is kind to Janos who has found work in the restaurants and dinner clubs of Manhattan.
New York. March 22nd, 1958
Janos has always brought me along, but recently less and less. Staying at home more and more. I am afraid that I will be forgotten and that this is the last time I will write for a long time.
New York. October 25th, 1988
Dear Diary, wonderful news! One day in the late eighties, a Norwegian pop star walked into a store in SoHo. I happened to be hanging out there just then. We met, we left together and became inseparable.
Oslo. December 2nd, 1992
I experience the world in a completely new way: first class! with screaming fans, limousines and paparazzi. What a time!
Nesodden. December 2nd, 2008
Sad news! The rock’n’roll circus can last only so long – and we finally settled down on a big farm near Oslo.
One day he saw us in the mirror together and said that sadly, we no longer fit...
Oslo. January 28th, 2015
So here I am. Especially selected and wrapped up in a box, and sent to a Norwegian artist. Hoping that the Signore will find me different and colorful, and will appreciate my rich life.
My name is Mario. Like my father. Mario Prada. I am a sweater. I hope that we can continue the story together.