Cara Anna, I’ll always remember you as the queen of our FW plants and how this started. I was helping one of the Senior Library Assistants to make our library greener. I was potting plants with other librarians in our staff room and you were crossing the room with the parental look of someone who already knows the answer “Who is going to look after them?”. I left FW library for a few months working in other sites. When I was back, the plants were in safe hands. We were in safe hands. You were the person who looked after the library, our plants and us. The first person to ask feedback to and the first person to give feedback about everything. If there were leaks or fire alarms or any other problems, you acted quickly to help, you always knew what to do. I remember your dedication to our libraries, your weeding trolley full of books which you brought to the enquiry desk during the evening or the Sunday shifts, because, when it was quiet, you could carry out other tasks, without wasting any minute. I remember your dry sense of humour, when you were calling us kids or by our surname; your simplicity, the elegance of someone who has decided to wear only one colour. I remember your big mug of tea, your folder with Van Gogh’s purple irises, the plant by your desk (Anna’s tree). In your last emails, there was a lot of non said. I regret not asking more questions. Would you have allowed me to do it? In my emails, I was describing the beautiful gardens of the West. I didn’t realise that I was describing a place which looks like the paradise... I’m not sure if there is an afterlife apart from our memories, Anna, but, if there is one, I can already see you giving advice to God on how to make (even) heaven a better place. Con tutto il mio affetto, Sara