"What interests me is living and dying for what one loves." (Albert Camus) What I love is telling stories about beauty, about courage, about fear. I hope you can appreciate them and then write your own ones.
Part 1: Orange and Blue The griffin and the lion are staring at one another, and their wide mouths give me an idea of hostility and aggressiveness. Their bronze faces still present some golden reflex, symbol of an adventurous past and a mythological nature. The two opponents, facing themselves once… Read More »The Griffin and the Lion (chapter 1)
It is late when I enter the half-empty Sala del Consiglio and look for a place: trying not to be noticed by the speaker, I unfortunately end up in the first row, just facing myself with the smiling face of Prof. Fabio Zanzotto. I humbly sit down and try to… Read More »Robin Hood 2.0
My back hurts and I really cannot turn to see what time it is. I wake up, in the middle of the night, and try to reach the toilet like a zombie looking for fresh meat. When I look my face reflected on the mirror, I understand immediately that I… Read More »Moka
He used to move elegantly under the midday sunshine, crossing the roads and the small vias of the old town of Gallipoli like an old shadow with a white panama on top. I still remember him stopping, from time to time, in front of a church or another baroque building,… Read More »Giuseppino
It is 6 pm and I am still struck in the traffic at the crossroads between Via Laurentina and Via della Magliana. I have to go towards the centre, and it will probably take me some hours before that I can sit in front of my pizza and relax. Traffic… Read More »Sediments
It happens sometimes that one feels like he has to do something, and then he just stands staring in the middle of nothing, with a cocktail in his hand and in the sad background of a latin-american song that tells “Baila conmigo mujer / Que la noche solamente comienza”. Well,… Read More »Baila conmigo
Every time I wake up, I have to scratch on the surface of the glass to remove the thick veil of condensed water that the night stuck on it: then, I can finally see the shapes of the trees outside, the peaks of the mountains on the horizon, the bodies… Read More »Still dreaming
When I step into a place I still don’t know very well, the first things I look at are the objects that populate it. I vividly remember all the times I adventured myself in the many unknown rooms of my grandparents’ villa in Lecce; I would always go in search… Read More »Future-persistent
It is late night when I come back home and lay on the carpet where the strands cross one another and make up fantastic imaginary figures. These days I am always depressed when I come back, as I can feel the air full of tension down in the streets and… Read More »The archipelago
Endlessly rolling a huge boulder up a steep hill must be annoying. A path of pain and sorrow, especially when the boulder rolls all the way back down at the starting point, as soon as the top of the hill is reached. This is the story of Sisyphus, the bravest… Read More »Sisyphus, the first European
I am watching the time label on the screen of my phone, laying down on the white sheet of my bed. The white of the sheets is just the same color of my vest, and it seems like I am submerged in the same big white sea, only my face… Read More »Breathe
The countryside was flat and green through the car window, and looked like a huge pool table with small red-roof houses and cars in the place of the balls. I was moving fast, and that gave me the inverse impression that it was everything else running around: a big game… Read More »What next?
He is wearing a grey tight suit and a black tie. I probably can’t really guess the original colors, as the whole image is drawn in a restricted series of shades from light black to dark grey. Very much room for imagination. He is sitting on the street, with his… Read More »A symbol
It was a sunny Saturday morning when I heard that song for the first time: the trees were still bare and white under the winter sunshine. Despite the cold wind, there was a sweet smell of spring in the air, which pushed me to walk fast without paying much attention… Read More »R-Evolution
Three Two One … A myriad of red party poppers is flooding the stage with the melody of Happy Days as background music. A camera from upwards is zooming on the presenter, crossing that rainfall of synthetic petals and filming the man while uncorking champagne bottles with the help of… Read More »Countdown
When my old friend Edoardo, who studies Ancient History at University College in London, bumped into my car, the first thing I told him was : “Edoardo, I still don’t understand why you’re studying History. What do you want to be in your life? And old man collecting boring stamps?”… Read More »A perspective
When an old day ends and a new one hasn’t started yet, melancholy always takes you, harder then ever. Especially if you live somewhere in the desolate South Roman hinterland. I was driving back home in the late night, coming from a party that was held in the countryside, and… Read More »Maritozzo