Told in the first person and collected by Susanna Berengo Gardin, the daughter who looks after her father’s archive, the book opens with a letter from Ferdinando Scianna and closes with a conversation between the author and Roberto Koch about the pictures made and the ones still to be made. Built in twelve chapters that account for the life of the great master from childhood to today, it follows the thread of a trade that is also a passion and unwinds it through a long biography full of encounters, journeys, stories and images caught or waiting to be caught — full, above all, of that attentiveness to the real, to society and to people that has always been the main baggage a reporter must carry. His world is our world. From his birth at Santa Margherita Ligure by chance, as he likes to say, since he considers himself Venetian to all effects, he tells of his family, well off and able to give him a thorough education; the reader learns the story of the failure of the hotel his family ran and the move to Rome under fascism, followed by the outbreak of the Second World War and his father’s six years of captivity in India, where he had gone as a volunteer. He describes himself as contrary, unused to rules, proud and cocky.