The Unseen Av Valerio Varesi

<p>Not having a name is like never having existed, but having one, even if you¿re no longer the person you were, even if you¿ve vanished, means that you were once there. That¿s true even for those who believe death is the end of everything. Our little comedy in this world surely must have a title. <br>It¿s autumn. Commissario Soneri had been assigned to a job that he clearly felt had been given to him out of spite by some functionary. A middle-aged white male had been lying, unidentified and unclaimed for over three years. It was even unclear if he had committed suicide or been murdered ¿ but as Soneri¿s superiors clearly considered that the man was ¿only¿ a foreigner, they had never really considered it worthwhile to waste police time in chasing up the few clues they had. Soneri was to ¿tidy up¿ the paperwork so the body could be released for burial, at which point he would simply be known as M89. But Soneri had the temperament of a dog who¿s smelt a rabbit, and, in his own time, and