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The truth is that I've never managed to keep a diary.
A monochrome wardrobe is one of my dreams, but it requires a great deal of clarity and direction. My wardrobe is a rainbow.
A monochrome wardrobe is one of my dreams, but it requires a great deal of clarity and direction. My wardrobe is a rainbow.
notes
Sea hunter-gatherers [short video on Instagram] | They may not have the crossfit bodies you expect from someone living the wild life, but they’ve seen hundreds of moons on these shores. They used to run after orange-green-yellow fishes few meters from the beach, and chase octopus at night near the reef. Now you can only see gangs of greedy greyish fishes eating cuticles of neglected feet. But the wind, oh the wind. He’s still the spirited child he used to be, careless of human sins.
Sea hunter-gatherers [short video on Instagram] | They may not have the crossfit bodies you expect from someone living the wild life, but they’ve seen hundreds of moons on these shores. They used to run after orange-green-yellow fishes few meters from the beach, and chase octopus at night near the reef. Now you can only see gangs of greedy greyish fishes eating cuticles of neglected feet. But the wind, oh the wind. He’s still the spirited child he used to be, careless of human sins.
Last winter, before we even knew the meaning of the word lockdown, I had started to document home - anticipating what would become a visual trend in the following months. I wanted to build a small archive of the objects I bring with me through all my moves, making me feel at home anywhere, despite (or thanks to?) the compulsive need to change my place every couple of years. They’re mostly seeds, nuts, baskets and bowls I pick up on the street or buy in second-hand shops, or fabrics from my travels. Then we learned that new word, everyone was looking inside, and I gave up. As I always do when I let ideas float like untied balloons.
Last winter, before we even knew the meaning of the word lockdown, I had started to document home - anticipating what would become a visual trend in the following months. I wanted to build a small archive of the objects I bring with me through all my moves, making me feel at home anywhere, despite (or thanks to?) the compulsive need to change my place every couple of years. They’re mostly seeds, nuts, baskets and bowls I pick up on the street or buy in second-hand shops, or fabrics from my travels. Then we learned that new word, everyone was looking inside, and I gave up. As I always do when I let ideas float like untied balloons.
Once upon a time, before comfortable clothes to #stayathome became a daily habit, I used to wear every day items from my travels covering as many countries as possible at once: scarves, anklets, skirts, earrings…I felt like carrying with me pieces of my identities that I had renewed and reshaped in all those experiences. Home is like this too, I’ll nest here a bit before taking off again.
Once upon a time, before comfortable clothes to #stayathome became a daily habit, I used to wear every day items from my travels covering as many countries as possible at once: scarves, anklets, skirts, earrings…I felt like carrying with me pieces of my identities that I had renewed and reshaped in all those experiences. Home is like this too, I’ll nest here a bit before taking off again.
The strength of nature is rooted in her acceptance of imperfection and mutability | Home details, learning from plants.
The strength of nature is rooted in her acceptance of imperfection and mutability | Home details, learning from plants.
where do dreams go when they're over?
where do dreams go when they're over?
After a dry winter, it’s been raining endlessly. We’ve pretended to be living in a tropical forest, set-up a bamboo washing line and helped our plants bear the weight of heavy drops.
After a dry winter, it’s been raining endlessly. We’ve pretended to be living in a tropical forest, set-up a bamboo washing line and helped our plants bear the weight of heavy drops.
The big change was announced by unexpected movements in the forest in the previous days. Rumours that diversity became the source of life, transformation its essence. 1+1 was 3, and cooperation the heartbeat. Or maybe it had always been like that, and we were just distracted by our phones.
The big change was announced by unexpected movements in the forest in the previous days. Rumours that diversity became the source of life, transformation its essence. 1+1 was 3, and cooperation the heartbeat. Or maybe it had always been like that, and we were just distracted by our phones.
Every late afternoon my neighbour in Rome used to wear her best dress, pearl necklace and earrings that made her deep blue eyes shine even more. She sat on her rusty but elegant chair, waiting for the lady living on the other side of the street to come for a chat in the yard. She reminded me of my grandma waiting for her friends in the village to appear at the red gate that enclosed her long and narrow yard: Elda used to bring tomatoes from her farm, Pina always looked for a Crodino. We welcomed them in the veranda and chatted until mosquitos started to bite insistently: the time to go back inside and start preparing dinner.
Every late afternoon my neighbour in Rome used to wear her best dress, pearl necklace and earrings that made her deep blue eyes shine even more. She sat on her rusty but elegant chair, waiting for the lady living on the other side of the street to come for a chat in the yard. She reminded me of my grandma waiting for her friends in the village to appear at the red gate that enclosed her long and narrow yard: Elda used to bring tomatoes from her farm, Pina always looked for a Crodino. We welcomed them in the veranda and chatted until mosquitos started to bite insistently: the time to go back inside and start preparing dinner.
During moody days I used to walk along Regent’s canal to clear my mind, until it reached its sea: the Thames. I grew up in a city drawn in between rivers and canals. Everywhere else I lived I’ve always looked for flowing waters to find answers or to learn to ignore questions. I would spend hours and days walking along rivers, feeling the way they adapt and let go. Rivers cannot go back, they can only transform constantly and never be the same. This is human nature too, but we rather build sluices to feel secure.
During moody days I used to walk along Regent’s canal to clear my mind, until it reached its sea: the Thames. I grew up in a city drawn in between rivers and canals. Everywhere else I lived I’ve always looked for flowing waters to find answers or to learn to ignore questions. I would spend hours and days walking along rivers, feeling the way they adapt and let go. Rivers cannot go back, they can only transform constantly and never be the same. This is human nature too, but we rather build sluices to feel secure.
For three days she lived in between two islands, and realized her lifelong dream. On the way back to the mainland, despite the freezing wind whipping her red hair across the face slightly warmed by the winter sun, she sat outside at the back of the ferry. She felt happy, and fragile.
For three days she lived in between two islands, and realized her lifelong dream. On the way back to the mainland, despite the freezing wind whipping her red hair across the face slightly warmed by the winter sun, she sat outside at the back of the ferry. She felt happy, and fragile.
Yesterday I left home for the first time in a week, to buy food. a signed permit in my pockets. In my building’s yard life is changing fast, so fast that I cannot remember where i left it last time. Streets smell of flowers and disinfectants. I could hear the bells of a nearby church i’ve never heard.
Yesterday I left home for the first time in a week, to buy food. a signed permit in my pockets. In my building’s yard life is changing fast, so fast that I cannot remember where i left it last time. Streets smell of flowers and disinfectants. I could hear the bells of a nearby church i’ve never heard.
…and so people spent so much time inside, that at last they learned to listen with their own eyes.
…and so people spent so much time inside, that at last they learned to listen with their own eyes.
My clothes as a child were mostly yellow. I cannot recall whether it was mine or mom’s decision. They say that when you choose yellow, it’s a sign that you feel beautiful. As a woman my clothes are pretty colourful, but yellow is scant. Yellow suits *outstandingly* beautiful people, a kind of beauty that over time for me it’s harder to find within myself. Still, whenever i see something yellow, my eyes glow. And you, do you feel yellow?
My clothes as a child were mostly yellow. I cannot recall whether it was mine or mom’s decision. They say that when you choose yellow, it’s a sign that you feel beautiful. As a woman my clothes are pretty colourful, but yellow is scant. Yellow suits *outstandingly* beautiful people, a kind of beauty that over time for me it’s harder to find within myself. Still, whenever i see something yellow, my eyes glow. And you, do you feel yellow?
Me and Grandma sat in the garden during mild summer evenings after washing dishes, doing nothing. The twisting profile of the mountains was the only shape we could discern in the darkness. The only sound, a hedgehog hunting snails in between pinkish hortensias.

Many years later, living a surreal moment in a city alien to me, I surprisingly find myself sitting in the balcony every evening. Doing what I never thought my adult, frantic and self-absorbed mind would allow me to do: superbly nothing.
Me and Grandma sat in the garden during mild summer evenings after washing dishes, doing nothing. The twisting profile of the mountains was the only shape we could discern in the darkness. The only sound, a hedgehog hunting snails in between pinkish hortensias.

Many years later, living a surreal moment in a city alien to me, I surprisingly find myself sitting in the balcony every evening. Doing what I never thought my adult, frantic and self-absorbed mind would allow me to do: superbly nothing.
When I wake up at 6.30 every day, birds are already partying hard. As I try to understand where I am and clumsily switch off the alarm on the night table, I wonder where that effervescence comes from. Do animals waste energies as we humans do? Ruminating, being obsessed, questioning, competing for the inessential. When did we lose touch with natural rhythms? And what for?
When I wake up at 6.30 every day, birds are already partying hard. As I try to understand where I am and clumsily switch off the alarm on the night table, I wonder where that effervescence comes from. Do animals waste energies as we humans do? Ruminating, being obsessed, questioning, competing for the inessential. When did we lose touch with natural rhythms? And what for?
Dad-Climbing, do you remember? What about rummaging through mom’s vast bag looking for candies, releasing that distinctive smell of leather mixed with mint? Both came with the feeling of having privileged access to something comfortably immense, an ocean to sail safely.
Dad-Climbing, do you remember? What about rummaging through mom’s vast bag looking for candies, releasing that distinctive smell of leather mixed with mint? Both came with the feeling of having privileged access to something comfortably immense, an ocean to sail safely.
It rained so much that day that all became one and clouds were salty. Walls at home were damp and soft, and we decided to take a walk on the sea.
It rained so much that day that all became one and clouds were salty. Walls at home were damp and soft, and we decided to take a walk on the sea.
One of my dreams is to live on the ground floor and have the world at my doorstep. like this man, wearing his slippers for the evening stroll close to his tiny house facing the lagoon.
One of my dreams is to live on the ground floor and have the world at my doorstep. like this man, wearing his slippers for the evening stroll close to his tiny house facing the lagoon.
Morning light at Dunis’. Too long ago. I do miss our non-breakfasts together, listening to the press review from three different radios, you asking permission to enter “my” room, me stressed when the sun played his light games exactly when we had to run to the office, the toilet monster complaining of being left home alone.
Morning light at Dunis’. Too long ago. I do miss our non-breakfasts together, listening to the press review from three different radios, you asking permission to enter “my” room, me stressed when the sun played his light games exactly when we had to run to the office, the toilet monster complaining of being left home alone.
HOW TO BECOME A BOOK step by step: *Take a lockdown; *Spend most of your time on the balcony at less than 10 degrees in the most polluted city of Italy, so that your skin crumples and can absorb more ink; *Read a lot (on paper, don’t cheat); *Take a giraffe mirror and interpret the signals the universe is sending you.
HOW TO BECOME A BOOK step by step: *Take a lockdown; *Spend most of your time on the balcony at less than 10 degrees in the most polluted city of Italy, so that your skin crumples and can absorb more ink; *Read a lot (on paper, don’t cheat); *Take a giraffe mirror and interpret the signals the universe is sending you.
Afternoon along the Miljacka river | When I travel I prefer to rely on public transportation and spend more time in typical “one day is enough” places, according to tourist guides. This is beautifully when the real journey begins.
Afternoon along the Miljacka river | When I travel I prefer to rely on public transportation and spend more time in typical “one day is enough” places, according to tourist guides. This is beautifully when the real journey begins.
“Al pasar cruzo un bosque de helechos mucho más alto que mi persona: se me dejan caer en la cara sesenta lágrimas desde sus verdes ojos fríos, y detrás de mí quedan por mucho tiempo temblando sus abanicos”|Pablo Neruda, Confieso que he vivido.
“Al pasar cruzo un bosque de helechos mucho más alto que mi persona: se me dejan caer en la cara sesenta lágrimas desde sus verdes ojos fríos, y detrás de mí quedan por mucho tiempo temblando sus abanicos”|Pablo Neruda, Confieso que he vivido.
I have a thing for trees. My folders abound in pictures of trees and windows. I always wonder what it is like to live in front of a certain tree, what light games with wind, what sounds in the mornings and at dusk, the pleasure of reading a book or sipping a cup of tea next to the tree.
I have a thing for trees. My folders abound in pictures of trees and windows. I always wonder what it is like to live in front of a certain tree, what light games with wind, what sounds in the mornings and at dusk, the pleasure of reading a book or sipping a cup of tea next to the tree.
“The undergrowth is populated by silent creatures. You don’t know if they’re coming or leaving. You don’t know if they’re staying or going. You don’t know if they’re right or wrong. The undergrowth is one of the few places where “I know” is less important than “I feel”. Yet, everything makes sense” ↟↟↟ Excerpt from ‘Undergrowth: quick adventures for distracted citizens’
“The undergrowth is populated by silent creatures. You don’t know if they’re coming or leaving. You don’t know if they’re staying or going. You don’t know if they’re right or wrong. The undergrowth is one of the few places where “I know” is less important than “I feel”. Yet, everything makes sense” ↟↟↟ Excerpt from ‘Undergrowth: quick adventures for distracted citizens’
During quiet summer evenings, it was easier for her to read the spots on the moon than to focus on a book.
During quiet summer evenings, it was easier for her to read the spots on the moon than to focus on a book.
The entire village was built with the stones his grandfather fished in the river. He spent entire afternoons after school stone-hunting with him.“The best ones are those one meter under water: they’re used to stay close to other stones and find their strength in collaboration. This is why our houses are so stout”. But the river was drying up summer after summer, and the stonehunter in the end could hunt only mammoth stones standing out alone. People started to slowly abandon the village, and live in houses that (they believed) didn’t need the river to exist. They forgot nature and pretended they could live without her, they forgot solidarity and pretended they lived better in locked antiseptic rooms. Those who are not afraid to remember say that during a stormy night the river was feeling alone after months of silence and decided to reach the village to see why nobody was visiting him any more. Houses were deserted and with sadness he decided to take back with him the stones that he lent to villagers. Countless years after it’s said that what is left of the riverbed is nothing but the ruins of the ancient village. Some even swear that that during the summer solstice at sunset you could see water slowly rising from the riverbed, and a young boy with a small net fishing stones.
The entire village was built with the stones his grandfather fished in the river. He spent entire afternoons after school stone-hunting with him.“The best ones are those one meter under water: they’re used to stay close to other stones and find their strength in collaboration. This is why our houses are so stout”. But the river was drying up summer after summer, and the stonehunter in the end could hunt only mammoth stones standing out alone. People started to slowly abandon the village, and live in houses that (they believed) didn’t need the river to exist. They forgot nature and pretended they could live without her, they forgot solidarity and pretended they lived better in locked antiseptic rooms. Those who are not afraid to remember say that during a stormy night the river was feeling alone after months of silence and decided to reach the village to see why nobody was visiting him any more. Houses were deserted and with sadness he decided to take back with him the stones that he lent to villagers. Countless years after it’s said that what is left of the riverbed is nothing but the ruins of the ancient village. Some even swear that that during the summer solstice at sunset you could see water slowly rising from the riverbed, and a young boy with a small net fishing stones.
Italy | lockdown day number : a lot | learning to read new signs | probably what strikes me most are the lights that I see from my balcony, I’ve never seen so many: orange is the living room, blue is the bulimic consumption of news, red the streetlight for no cars, white the lamp for people walking their dogs, pink is hugs.
Italy | lockdown day number : a lot | learning to read new signs | probably what strikes me most are the lights that I see from my balcony, I’ve never seen so many: orange is the living room, blue is the bulimic consumption of news, red the streetlight for no cars, white the lamp for people walking their dogs, pink is hugs.
I’ve always envied those who fill thick sheets of words and thoughts. When paper ripples, seduced by the rush of a greedy pen. I feel ashamed of my own words on paper, as if their tactile nature made them real. Words on an intangible sheet, instead, are erratic and hazy. I don’t like them, but they mirror my self.
I’ve always envied those who fill thick sheets of words and thoughts. When paper ripples, seduced by the rush of a greedy pen. I feel ashamed of my own words on paper, as if their tactile nature made them real. Words on an intangible sheet, instead, are erratic and hazy. I don’t like them, but they mirror my self.
missing: the warm colours of the south, the smell of rotten fruits pressed at the bottom of wooden carts, the salty tang of the sea mixed with fried plantains at the kiosk.
missing: the warm colours of the south, the smell of rotten fruits pressed at the bottom of wooden carts, the salty tang of the sea mixed with fried plantains at the kiosk.
On some winter days, the sea became liquid gold. Gianni and Ettore, his little hectic dog, used to go out and look for jewels.
On some winter days, the sea became liquid gold. Gianni and Ettore, his little hectic dog, used to go out and look for jewels.
They had never met, but what they heard about each other during those years was so vivid that it was like they had always been together. The wedding was over, bride groom and guests gone, flowers withering on the floor under the flaming summer sun of Sicily. And they were still there, telling the stories they had waited to tell each other for so long.
They had never met, but what they heard about each other during those years was so vivid that it was like they had always been together. The wedding was over, bride groom and guests gone, flowers withering on the floor under the flaming summer sun of Sicily. And they were still there, telling the stories they had waited to tell each other for so long.
Grandma smelled like parsley. She carried parsley everywhere, on her hands, on her apron, on the arms of her eyeglasses, on her thin fluffy hair.
Grandma smelled like parsley. She carried parsley everywhere, on her hands, on her apron, on the arms of her eyeglasses, on her thin fluffy hair.
Digging into the archive, what it was and what i want it to be, safe upon this shore and feeling the wind.
Digging into the archive, what it was and what i want it to be, safe upon this shore and feeling the wind.
I was a child the last time that I took a ‘vaporetto’ in Venice. It was an adventure, more than a need. My grandparents’ house in Rialto could be easily reached by walk from the train station, and the sound of heels stepping on the damp and deserted streets of Venice at night is still one of my fondest memories. Recently I took the ‘vaporetto’ again to travel across the islands of the lagoon: my attention got caught by a young boy fascinated by the chaotic water traffic outside the window and ready to embark on his own adventure.
I was a child the last time that I took a ‘vaporetto’ in Venice. It was an adventure, more than a need. My grandparents’ house in Rialto could be easily reached by walk from the train station, and the sound of heels stepping on the damp and deserted streets of Venice at night is still one of my fondest memories. Recently I took the ‘vaporetto’ again to travel across the islands of the lagoon: my attention got caught by a young boy fascinated by the chaotic water traffic outside the window and ready to embark on his own adventure.
Sunset at home on a sunday afternoon. Home # 15 : over time, I’ve learned how to choose spaces according to the dance of the sun.
Sunset at home on a sunday afternoon. Home # 15 : over time, I’ve learned how to choose spaces according to the dance of the sun.
Any time I spot the mountains from Venice, I draw an emotional line connecting the two sides of my roots. Venice herself, in the end, could not exist without those forests.
Any time I spot the mountains from Venice, I draw an emotional line connecting the two sides of my roots. Venice herself, in the end, could not exist without those forests.
Over the last years I’ve been discovering the Balkans with my partner, a compromise between my appetite for living anywhere far from myself, and the call to have less impactful travels. I’ve discovered landscapes that resonate with me. The scent of embers, rainy woods, thick flavors and turbulent rivers. That’s why I love travelling so much: you think you’re leaving, but you’re rather coming back.
Over the last years I’ve been discovering the Balkans with my partner, a compromise between my appetite for living anywhere far from myself, and the call to have less impactful travels. I’ve discovered landscapes that resonate with me. The scent of embers, rainy woods, thick flavors and turbulent rivers. That’s why I love travelling so much: you think you’re leaving, but you’re rather coming back.
Whenever I travel, I bring back local fairytales and medicinal plants. My cupboard is filled with jars, half full, or with just few brownish dry leaves left asking me for mercy. I’m so attached to them and the memories they bring, that I don’t care if I look like an old witch hoarding yellowed jars of embalmed frogs’ legs. Medicinal plants, the small markets where they’re sold and conversations with the people who offer them, tell much more about a place than any other item.
Whenever I travel, I bring back local fairytales and medicinal plants. My cupboard is filled with jars, half full, or with just few brownish dry leaves left asking me for mercy. I’m so attached to them and the memories they bring, that I don’t care if I look like an old witch hoarding yellowed jars of embalmed frogs’ legs. Medicinal plants, the small markets where they’re sold and conversations with the people who offer them, tell much more about a place than any other item.
notes
As we walked around lake Skadar trying to reach the next village, we noticed many little deserted kiosks along the disused road. The season was still low, like lake waters: only few tourists and stray cats were around. This kiosk in particular reminded me of one of the two bars in my grandma’s village. I was definitely the only client at 2pm in August, when I needed to get no-matter-what that fake strawberry ice cream with a pinkish chewing-gum inside. I would expect the same from this rusty fridge. Next time.
As we walked around lake Skadar trying to reach the next village, we noticed many little deserted kiosks along the disused road. The season was still low, like lake waters: only few tourists and stray cats were around. This kiosk in particular reminded me of one of the two bars in my grandma’s village. I was definitely the only client at 2pm in August, when I needed to get no-matter-what that fake strawberry ice cream with a pinkish chewing-gum inside. I would expect the same from this rusty fridge. Next time.
“How do you tell a Butterfly from a Flower?” she asked. “Flowers don’t fly”, said the Butterflower.
“How do you tell a Butterfly from a Flower?” she asked. “Flowers don’t fly”, said the Butterflower.
Photo trouvée in my mind, playing with film.
Photo trouvée in my mind, playing with film.
Home became a refuge for beings that were, then were not any more, then were given a chance to become. Among them, there is me. Unclear at which stage tho'.
Home became a refuge for beings that were, then were not any more, then were given a chance to become. Among them, there is me. Unclear at which stage tho'.
Her eyes were the colour of wet bark after heavy rains. 
His eyes, instead. 
They could be the colour of deep seas 
or linden leaves, 
whether he was looking inward 
or outward.
Her eyes were the colour of wet bark after heavy rains.
His eyes, instead.
They could be the colour of deep seas
or linden leaves,
whether he was looking inward
or outward.
home | həʊm | verb | 1: (of an animal) return by instinct to its territory after leaving it | 2: move or be aimed towards a target destination with great accuracy | example: after the lockdown, I will home my soul in nature.
home | həʊm | verb | 1: (of an animal) return by instinct to its territory after leaving it | 2: move or be aimed towards a target destination with great accuracy | example: after the lockdown, I will home my soul in nature.
sensorial travel archives, crunchy sand soaked with rotting fish.
sensorial travel archives, crunchy sand soaked with rotting fish.
her hands were strong, her eyes had spoken many words. she could comfortably look at the howling sea and feel at peace.
her hands were strong, her eyes had spoken many words. she could comfortably look at the howling sea and feel at peace.
“On est mieux chez soi, et: au fond de la mer c’est encore plus beau”. From ‘La Petite Sirène’, second-hand book found in Marseille. Photo taken at Les Almadies, Senegal.
“On est mieux chez soi, et: au fond de la mer c’est encore plus beau”. From ‘La Petite Sirène’, second-hand book found in Marseille. Photo taken at Les Almadies, Senegal.
It looked like the moon was releasing herself from the grip of the vegetation. She had always been free, but she didn’t know.
It looked like the moon was releasing herself from the grip of the vegetation. She had always been free, but she didn’t know.

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