On the night of November 2, 1975, Pier Paolo Pasolini was murdered on a desolate beach in Ostia. An event brutal, opaque, still unresolved. A wound in European culture that never quite healed. The Last Hours of Pasolini is not an investigation in the conventional sense, nor a biographical summing-up. Christian Soleil chooses another path: that of the final hours, where facts blur, where time thickens, where a man walks toward his destiny without knowing its exact shape. Through a precise and lyrical prose, he reconstructs the atmosphere of that night — Rome after dusk, the tension of an era, the solitude of an intellectual who had made enemies by refusing silence. Soleil explores Pasolini not as a monument, but as a living body: fragile, lucid, angry, tender. The book moves between documented reality and sensitive intuition, between politics and poetry, between the public figure and the private man. Each page asks the same quiet question: what does it mean to speak the truth when the world would prefer you mute? This is a book about an ending, but also about what resists death — language, courage, and the dangerous beauty of freedom. A luminous, unsettling portrait of an artist who knew that words can burn, and accepted the risk.