"[...] In these poems by Silvia frequently return terms or expressions that have to do with waste, waste, faded everyday life, the banality of days all the same, the domestic cage, boredom, nothingness, emptiness, nudity, darkness, cold, silence, absence, shadows, illusions, delusions. The ravens days, black as the thoughts. And they do not come back only in winter. We all know something, I think. Reading Silvia, I thought of Sylvia Plath's diaries-confession, especially her glass bell. That invisible shell capable of protecting it from the outside world and at the same time suffocating it. And I thought of her trying to scratch it with the poetry, the only, liberating antidote to asphyxiation.
 [...] Silvia's entire calendar, although divided into four moments, is one long season, the one that condenses all of them and observes them without interruption. It is the season of analysis, of the partial sum, of the gaze turned towards what has already been. And he does not come back. Like childhood, the true protagonist of this collection and, in my opinion, one of the pillars of Silvia Rosa's poetics. After all, that of childhood is a time not time. Immobile, almost eternal, she writes. Unrepeatable but evergreen in memory, indelible trace, manure for adulthood. [...]. Silvia, Little Red Riding Hood, we all, as human beings, are weak and we can make mistakes. We lose the ingenuity and
infantile innocence when we encounter the dangers hidden inside and outside ourselves.
We receive in return the wisdom of those who have passed fundamental tests. And even living is a test, perhaps the most necessary and arduous. Perceive youth to ours
shoulders. Not being able to choose the life we ​​wanted. And then the ravens days of Silvia. But without complaints, without self-pity. His is a non-renunciation. And the happy ending, if not love, will come from poetry and its thaumaturgical power [...] "(Gabriella Montanari).