The line that transforms a significant experience within us into a historical event is thin, almost invisible. Without caring how many years will pass until this happens, without completely disconnecting one from the other, without idealizing either the experience or the historical event. Where does the wolf live?, with the dedication "For the groups, from '67 to '74," out of print for decades, is being reissued exactly fifty years from the emblematic 1974. It balances on that thin, almost invisible line that, whether we like it or not, is drawn with the closing of a half-century. The literary text remains exactly the same, with the mode of expression I had then, moving steadily towards narrative discourse. Here, enclosed spaces (student apartment, prisons, parental home) converse incessantly, comfortingly, with the openness of art, fairy tales, dreams, an excursion, the streets. A personal postscript traces my participation in the events I experienced – in other words, in History, as it now becomes autonomous from the experience, forgotten by most, yet continues to demand our empathy, humility, and reflection. As I lived, therefore, everything together with the groups – distant but forever present.