Thought of the day

Sometimes people have a dream.
And sometimes this dream is bigger than being with someone - even if this someone is great.
If you are this specific someone, you have to respect the dream first.
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

A red dress fading in distant lights

The lady with the red dress arrived in a sunny and warm day of June.
The lady with the red dress left in a foggy and cold night of December end.

I tought being far away one from the other was a way to keep everything hibernated. I have been so stupid.
I kind of kept myself in the same position, closing my eyes to not see the reality.
She is kind, nice and beautiful as she has always been. She is 10 years younger than me but tonight she looked like the experienced one.
"I would do again everything I did back in July. But not now. In a week I will leave again, I can not afford to suffer as I did in August and September"
Not a single kiss. But she did smell the same as in July. Her eyes were perfect and so full of lights as they used to be. Her body was an amazing symphony of tendreness.

She arrived in my life like a shooting star. She has left a trail of magic behind her. And everything she brought to my life is like a white gift. I am thankfull for every moment I have spent with her and every word she brought to my mind.
She almost litterally saved me in July. I was broken in 157 pieces, she sorted out all of the pieces and put the plate together again.
Tonight, since she is so incredibly sweet and sensitive, she reminded me that she did a big job to put the pieces together and I should not allow anyone - not even her - to break the plate again.

The plate is there. Yes, it is a sad plate, but it is complete. And it is complete just because of her.
Someone told me that she is my soulmate. And being a soulmate of someones does not mean you are meant to be together.
For sure she has been able to see very very deep into myself. And for some unknown reason I did allow her to enter so deep.
And, hard to beliave I know, but I am happy I did. Because she did not go in the middle with dirty boots trying to destroy everything. She went there flying, stroking everything she could find, taking care of everything, filling holes and putting together pieces when needed. And I only have to thank for her presence.

She is much more far-sighted than me. She look beyond tomorrow and decides for the best. I just miss her lips so much. I just miss the way she laugh, the way she talks, the way she spend 10 minutes just to decide what she would like to have for dinner.
The way she looks at me when I say something naugthy and she wants to calm me down.
The way she is able to make me feel protected.
The way she is able to make me feel CLEAN.
I miss her, all together.

The plate is there because of you. Please never doubt this. Never. And "hate" is not a word I can associate to you. Never. I understand your point, just allow me to me sad.
I hope to see you soon before you leave again for the other part of the world.
In one way or the other, I am yours. Maybe not as we tought a few months ago but I am yours. And not for a joke.

Christmas melancholy

Suddenly, one day you realize that you do not like Christmas that much.
The small market, the lights, the cakes, the sweets, the sparkling wine. All of those stuff used to be lovely.
You used to love to complain about the long time spent freezing in the street market because she wanted to see any bench. You could say that they did look all the same, that the products are always the same and that there is nothing new there. But she kept walking on each one smiling to the owner because she was able to find something good there.
The lights were so nice because she could tell you that this year the lights are better than the previous year or just different. For you they always look the same but she could tell that something has changed.
The cakes and the sweet are something that make your hands dirty. But she used to eat them laughing because you did not want to get your hands dirty so it was lovely to have her kidding for half an hour about that.
The wine is still good. You love wine. Now you understand lot more about the wine, you can tell if it is a champenoise or a traditional. You can tell the difference between a one made with Pinot Noir or Riesling. But you do not care that much because you can not share.
Share is the keyword.
Share is what used to make Christmas so nice.
Share is the real mean of a relationship.
And now you have no one you can or want to share with. And it really sucks.
All you want is to get hibernated and wake up on Jan, 7th. Any chance to get it?

London Airport and a sleepless night

The London Airport is huge. Lot of people travelling there. Lot of stories arriving and leaving. And I have always had a love and hate relationship with this airport.
Everytime I have been here my heart was not calm. Something was going on.

This time is not different. I could see the rain beating against the lounge window and behind that I could see planes moving, arriving, leaving. Planes full of people. For some unknown and unfathomable reason we were all together in the same place.
Everyone with his own pains, dreams and desires.

The last time I have been there my heart was full of hope for the future. I was dreaming a different life, in a different place, with a specific person.
Now, after six months, my feeling was quite different. It was like when you are turning a point of non-return. I have lost faith in lot of things, I have lost faith in love or at least in the pure love I had in my mind - with a childhood attitude that is not the one a guy should have at my age.
I vividly remember the same lounge when I was describing what I could see.
Today this did not make any sense.
Today I was sitting in an elegant leather chair, drinking a beer with my hands close to my mouth in a way that it looks like I was praying. And people was passing by. I was looking to all of them to try to find what they have in mind, what they were thinking.
A couple of young guys arrived. She was cute. He was elegant and gentle with her. I was looking at them like someone who does not believe anymore in what they are doing. No movement on my face, an icy look to anything around me because I do not care anymore.
Why am I here? I came for business and I have spent, litteraly, the last 36 hours with no sleep and with a single idea in my mind. I look nice, gentle and elegant as usual but you can find only a plain of ice deep inside me.

I am pretty sure this will end up. Sooner or later. Maybe sooner. But it is a weird feeling to see Christmas things around and realizing that you are totally alone in this world.
Alone because I am keep myself away from anything that can lead to any risk. I prefer to avoid any kiss even if I am in the mood. I talk about anything but serious things with any person I get out with. And I end up dreaming in my own secret world because the real world is too risky and dangerous.
I have spent the last night looking outside the hotel window. I could see the lights of the houses reflected in the Thames. And a brillant moon in the sky. I think I have spent more than two hours just looking outside as I could not sleep. And at some point the room was too warm and I had to feel a bit of air in the balcony.
All of this to realize that I did follow my heart and it did not work out. I realized that people always try to do their best to achieve the best for them and / or for the person they do care of. But sometimes this is not enough because people are not mathematical equation and rationality is not something that really matters in love.
No anger, no blame to anyone. Just awareness.

So I fly home with tears in my eyes because I can see the Eiffel Tower from the plane and I remember when I came to London the first time, almost 6 years ago. It was the first business trip. Lot of water under the bridges. Lot of new things arrived. Good ones and bad ones. As someone used to say, if this is the way it went it is because it was the best possible way. I just need to have faith. I have to.

The lady with the red dress

Somtimes in life you find yourself in emotional or feeling situations where you can not go down more than where you are. You find yourself in the deep of hell and the only way to get out of it is climbing a very high mountain.

It is not a very attractive place to be. Neither for yourself or the people around you.
Some people tries to climb alone. Some other people are lucky enough or blessed by some other entity to get help.
And at that time the lady with the red dress arrived for me.
An amazing young lady arrived in my life. Short. Fast. Like a flash in the sky.
She arrived with the beauty of being 20 and with the amazing freedom of being 20.
She arrived with a green shirt and two green eyes. Green like a field in April. Full of water. Fresh. Relaxing.
She found me in a deep hole, "broken in 157 small pieces". She started to take all of them and to look at any of them. And, with patient and lovely attitude, she sorted out all of the pieces and put the plate together again.
It is not perfect. You can see the signs in the plate and from time to time one of the pieces fall down.
She has been there for the time strictly required to sort out the 157 pieces. And then, like an angel sent by God, she left when everything started to take off.
 It was agreed. She has a bigger and more important dream to follow.
Before leaving I have been tempted to let the plate fall down once again. It was broken again. Not badly broken but it was a shame anyway.
She put the pieces together once again and at the end litterally slapped my face and said: "it took a big effort to fix it. And to fix it again. I gotta leave now, do not allow anyone to break it again".

When I asked "why me" she simply said "becuase you make the difference". I am not 100% sure what she meant.

I look to the Thames tonight in a crazy and endless night. Full of toughts. And I can only think that I have been blessed to be kissed by such an angel. An angel with green eyes and an amazing way of taking care of me.

Noodles

A fish out of water

I was in a fair for business purposes. There waiting for customers or prospect to visit the boot. And it was ok.

But at some point during the day I started to look around to try to understand where I was. And I was in a kind of crazy world.
Stunning women, very high heels, very short skirt, always smiling. Isn't this just a fake place? Am I meant to be there?
Hard to believe but I am shy in a situation like that. I want to create and hole in the grownd and go below. Or just take the door and walk away. I am surrounded by people I do not know, lot of noise, lot of yadda yadda yadda talking about nothing: "yes, we need to connect and talk about business - sorry only one moment" and they start talking to another person. I do not even remember your name but I have to pretend I do. Where have we met? Oh yes now I remember we have had a drink last time in that hotel.
Follow me I introduce you to this guy you have to meet. And you forget the name after a second.
I feel inadequate. I feel like there is no real mean to be there but I know I am wrong. I know it is my fault beucase this is the way it works.
And in this crazy world of models, noise and fake smiles only two people touched my heart for a little while. But I am not there to be touched. I am there for business. So what? Is business heartless?

Non c'è niente da capire

Le stelle sono tante, milioni di milioni,

la luce dei lampioni si confonde con la strada lucida.

Seduto o non seduto, faccio sempre la mia parte,

con l'anima in riserva e il cuore che non parte.

Però Giovanna io me la ricordo ma è un ricordo che vale dieci lire.

E non c'è niente da capire.

Mia moglie ha molti uomini,

ognuno è una scommessa perduta ogni mattina nello specchio del caffè.

Io amo le sue rughe ma lei non lo capisce,

ha un cuore da fornaio e forse mi tradisce,

però Giovanna è stata la migliore,

faceva dei giochetti da impazzire.

E non c'è niente da capire.

Se tu fossi di ghiaccio ed io fossi di neve,

che freddo amore mio, pensaci bene a far l'amore.

È giusto quel che dici ma i tuoi calci fanno male,

io non ti invidio niente,

non ho niente di speciale.

Ma se i tuoi occhi fossero ciliege io non ci troverei niente da dire.

E non c'è niente da capire.

È troppo tempo amore che noi giochiamo a scacchi,

mi dicono che stai vincendo e ridono

da matti, ma io non lo sapevo che era una partita,

posso dartela vinta e tenermi la mia vita.

Però se un giorno tornerai da queste parti,

riportami i miei occhi e il tuo fucile.

E non c'è niente da capire. 

Convention for those wounded in love

General provisions:

A – Whereas the saying “all is fair in love and war” is absolutely correct;

B – Whereas for war we have the Geneva Convention, approved on 22 August 1864, which provides for those wounded in the battle field, but until now no convention has been signed concerning those wounded in love, who are far greater in number;

It is hereby decreed that:

Article 1 – All lovers, of any sex, are alerted that love, besides being a blessing, is also something extremely dangerous, unpredictable and capable of causing serious damage. Consequently, anyone planning to love should be aware that they are exposing their body and soul to various types of wounds, and that they shall not be able to blame their partner at any moment, since the risk is the same for both.

Article 2 – Once struck by a stray arrow fired from Cupid’s bow, they should immediately ask the archer to shoot the same arrow in the opposite direction, so as not to be afflicted by the wound known as “unrequited love”. Should Cupid refuse to perform such a gesture, the Convention now being promulgated demands that the wounded partner remove the arrow from his/her heart and throw it in the garbage. In order to guarantee this, those concerned should avoid telephone calls, messages over the Internet, sending flowers that are always returned, or each and every means of seduction, since these may yield results in the short run but always end up wrong after a while. The Convention decrees that the wounded person should immediately seek the company of other people and try to control the obsessive thought: “this person is worth fighting for”.

Article 3 – If the wound is caused by third parties, in other words if the loved one has become interested in someone not in the script previously drafted, vengeance is expressly forbidden. In this case, it is allowed to use tears until the eyes dry up, to punch walls or pillows, to insult the ex-partner in conversations with friends, to allege his/her complete lack of taste, but without offending their honor. The Convention determines that the rule contained in Article 2 be applied: seek the company of other persons, preferably in places different from those frequented by the other party.

Article 4 – In the case of light wounds, herein classified as small treacheries, fulminating passions that are short-lived, passing sexual disinterest, the medicine called Pardon should be applied generously and quickly. Once this medicine has been applied, one should never reconsider one’s decision, not even once, and the theme must be completely forgotten and never used as an argument in a fight or in a moment of hatred.

Article 5 – In all definitive wounds, also known as “breaking up”, the only medicine capable of having an effect is called Time. It is no use seeking consolation from fortune-tellers (who always say that the lost lover will return), romantic books (which always have a happy ending), soap-operas on the television or other such things. One should suffer intensely, completely avoiding drugs, tranquilizers and praying to saints. Alcohol is only tolerated if kept to a maximum of two glasses of wine a day.

Final determination:
Those wounded in love, unlike those wounded in armed conflict, are neither victims nor torturers. They chose something that is part of life, and so they have to accept both the agony and the ecstasy of their choice.
And those who have never been wounded in love will never be able to say: “I have lived”. Because they haven’t.

(Paulo Coelho - http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/08/21/convention-of-those-wounded-in-love-2/)

I Think I'll Disappear Now

Running into you like this without warning
Is like catching a sniff of tequila in the morning
But I'll try, I'll try to keep my food down
That's quite an after-taste that you've left now that you're not around

You can just pretend we're not in the same room
Well, alright, I'll just mosey to the bathroom
You flew by like a summer vacation
And you left me with TV-movies and a messy kitchen

I think I'll disappear now, slip out sideways
Just for awhile - but until then I'll stay in and sleep late, excuse me

I'll buy a fast car, I'll drive fast from here
There's a beach I haven't seen since last year - 
It's far, but I like night drives;
It just makes it nicer when I do arrive

Aren't you going to miss me?
Aren't you going to even say one thing to me anymore?

Well, you can bet that I'll forget how it was then:
All the drives to your farm for the weekend ...
But I've seen the swimsuit magazines
And I've smelled tequila the first thing in the morning 

(Brad Roberts)

Break the glass!

I stumbled this text last night at 3AM as I could not sleep.
It is cool. But I am afraid it is not my business anymore. At least for a while.

(from: "By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept" by Paulo Coelho)

"I want to talk about the other kind of love."
He reached out to caress my face. The wine made things easier for him. And for me. "Why did you stop so suddenly? Why don't you want to talk about God and the Virgin and the spiritual world?"
"I want to talk about the other kind of love," he said again. "The love that a man and a woman share, and in which there are also miracles."
I took his hands. He might know of the great mysteries of the Goddess, but he didn't know any more than I did about love—even though he had traveled much more than I had.
We held hands for a long time. I could see in his eyes the deep fears that true love tests us with. I could see that he was remembering the rejection of the night before, as well as the long time we had been separated, and his years in the monastery, searching for a world where such anxieties didn't intrude.
I could see in his eyes the thousands of times that he had imagined this moment and the scenes he had constructed about us. I wanted to say that yes, he was welcome, that my heart had won the battle. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him and how badly I wanted him at that moment.
But I was silent. I witnessed, as if in a dream, his inner conflict. I could see that he was wondering whether I'd reject him again, that he was thinking about his fear of losing me, and about the hard words he had heard at other, similar times—because we all have such experiences, and they leave scars.
His eyes gleamed. He was ready to surmount any barrier.
I took one of my hands from his and placed my glass of wine at the edge of the table. "It's going to fall," he said.
"Exactly. I want you to tip it over the edge."
"Break the glass?"
Yes, break the glass. A simple gesture, but one that brings up fears we can't really understand. What's wrong with breaking an inexpensive glass, when everyone has done so unintentionally at some time in their life?
"Break the glass?" he repeated. "Why?"
"Well, I could give you lots of reasons," I answered. "But actually, just to break it."
"For you?
"No, of course not."
He eyed the glass on the edge of the table—worried that it might fall.
It's a rite of passage, I wanted to say. It's something prohibited. Glasses are not purposely broken. In a restaurant or in our home, we're careful not to place glasses by the edge of a table. Our universe requires that we avoid letting glasses fall to the floor.
But when we break them by accident, we realize that it's not very serious. The waiter says, "It's nothing," and when has anyone been charged for a broken glass? Breaking glasses is part of life and does no damage to us, to the restaurant, or to anyone else. I bumped the table. The glass shook but didn't fall.
"Careful!" he said, instinctively.
"Break the glass," I insisted.
Break the glass, I thought to myself, because it's a symbolic gesture. Try to understand that I have broken things within myself that were much more important than a glass, and I'm happy I did. Resolve your own internal battle, and break the glass.
Our parents taught us to be careful with glasses and with our bodies. They taught us that the passions of childhood are impossible, that we should not flee from priests, that people cannot perform miracles, and that no one leaves on a journey without knowing where they are going.
Break the glass, please—and free us from all these damned rules, from needing to find an explanation for every thing, from doing only what others approve of.
"Break the glass," I said again.
He stared at me. Then, slowly, he slid his hand along the tablecloth to the glass. And with a sudden movement, he pushed it to the floor.
The sound of the breaking glass caught the waiter's attention. Rather than apologize for having broken the glass, he looked at me, smiling—and I smiled back.
"Doesn't matter," shouted the waiter.
But he wasn't listening. He had stood, seized my hair in his hands, and was kissing me. I clutched at his hair, too, and squeezed him with all my strength, biting his lips and feeling his tongue move in my mouth. This was the kiss I had waited for so long—a kiss born by the rivers of our childhood, when we didn't yet know what love meant. A kiss that had been suspended in the air as we grew, that had traveled the world in the souvenir of a medal, and that had remained hidden behind piles of books. A kiss that had been lost so many times and now was found. In the moment of that kiss were years of searching, disillusionment, and impossible dreams.
I kissed him hard. The few people there in the bar must have been thinking that all they were seeing was just a kiss. They didn't know that this kiss stood for my whole life and his life, as well. The life of anyone who has waited, dreamed, and searched for their true path.
The moment of that kiss contained every happy moment I had ever lived.
He took off my clothes and entered me with strength, with fear, and with great desire. I ran my hands over his face, heard his moans, and thanked God that he was there inside me, making me feel as if it were the first time.
We made love all night long—our lovemaking blended with our sleeping and dreaming. I felt him inside me and embraced him to make sure that this was really happening, to make sure that he wouldn't disappear, like the knights who had once inhabited this old castle-hotel. The silent walls of stone seemed to be telling stories of damsels in distress, of fallen tears and endless days at the window, looking to the horizon, looking for a sign of hope.
But I would never go through that, I promised myself. I would never lose him. He would always be with me—because I had heard the tongues of the Holy Spirit as I looked at a crucifix behind an altar, and they had said that I would not be committing a sin. I would be his companion, and together we would tame a world that was going to be created anew. We would talk about the Great Mother, we would fight at the side of Michael the Archangel, and we would experience together the agony and the ecstasy of pioneers. That's what the tongues had said to me—and because I had recovered my faith, I knew they were telling the truth.

Rome - again

Do you remember this place?
We have been there. The first time we have been spending a night together in Rome.
It has been one of our crazy things. I took a plane at the last minute on Sunday morning to spend time with you. And on Monday morning we took a quick tour around the centre of the city.
It was so nice. It was very peculiar to see where you live, to be in your city with you. It was something I have been dreaming for quite a long time.
We stopped at the Intimissimi shop to buy some underwear for you. And there I did joke about your picture on your id.
Do you remember or have you already removed it from your mind?

Every time I come in this wonderful city is a pain. Every step, every corner reminds me that you are around there.
This morning it was like if I could feel your presence. I wanted to call you and tell you where I was. To come to you and say "ok please tell me all of this is just a joke".
But I could not because it is not right.
"You're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong". Do you remember Casablanca?

So I have been there like "a guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out".
Maybe, and I say maybe, one day I will laugh about all of this mess and I will keep only the sweets things about us. But so far I can't and I am running like an asshole and I am not moving.
Maybe one day I will be glad to go to Rome again and see that wonderful city. It was my favourite one. It used to be the best city in the world and not I hate it.
Everytime a customer ask me to go there is like a nightmare and I look forward to fly back.
Maybe, one day, I will feel a bigger emotion there with someone and finally I clean up my mind. As my mind is now full of images, feelings, emotions and you are there.
I have no clue if I will be able to feel those emotions with anyone. So far I am only keeping anyone at security distance and frankly it sucks.
Maybe one day I will be able to associate Via Frattina, Via del Corso and Porta Pia to a person that will be able to see what I have inside and protect it. I'd like to look at the Train Station without my heart stopping beating for a little while every time.

I can only dream that for now. I am not sure I can find anyone willing to take the desert which is inside me and put a flower there. I am not sure anyone wants to come with me in Rome if I tell her the truth.

I hate myself because I do not associate almost anything to a song or anything like this. But I have a map of my world and for every place I associate a person. And when I used to love that person and it is not the case anymore, I can't stand in that place. It hurts too much.
I would like to change life. Go somewhere far away so no chance of being in Rome again. But this is tough and not even the best solution.
I need to be patient and "keep looking, don't settle".

And I hate myself also because I am writing to someone who will never ever come here to read what I have to say. Even if you know, inside of your heart, that this blog was originally there for you.
Maybe you do not care. Or maybe you just want to face your own secret world and forget what we used to be.

Another shame.

Noodles.
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

Good bye Rome

When the plane took off I could see the sea. It was dark green in the middle. Then it was more and more light green to become almost gray / yellow when close to the beach.
It was nice, I did look like a child looking out of the window.
And I think I have been able to see Fregene as well. Do you remember that night? It has been special, right? We have been sitting outside in that restaurant, looking to the planes leaving from the airport at night. I did not tell you at that time but my dream was to take one with you and fly away, to a new world where we could be only the two of us.
I miss that night. And I miss the feeling that sometimes I have been able to fell with you. Like if the rest of the world could not understand what was between us.
But at some point we entered in the clouds and I could not see the sea. Not anymore. Everything white and useless.

You said I did not give the last chance. I gave you tons of chances and you have always refused them.
I am pretty sure you will see him tonight. I am pretty sure you kept making love with him in the past months.
You know how holy is the fact of making love for me. And I could feel you were with him. I could also see it from time to time. And how could you ask me to make love with you in such a scenario.
Did you understand so little of my soul? Why you kept asking to make love without giving the whole of you? You knew it was important to me, you knew it was not just a matter of sex and you kept predending that everything was perfect and cool.
How can you expect myself to make love with you if you are not mine?

And you know what? I am really sorry. I put all of my chips on this story. All that I have got. And I have lost. Not in one shot, I kept playing and slowly I have lost all of my chips.
I might go to Las Vegas and try to be lucky at least there.
Sometimes I ask myself what is logic. What is true. What is real. And I can not clearly see the whole story, everything appear fuzzy.

And now I am kind of cold. And you complained about it. Yes - I have not been clear in the last three weeks before we broke. But you could see it was not the same as before. You could see that I was disappointed, tired and far away with my mind.
And, think about it, you have never shown yourself here for what you are? Are you real? Are you reading this or have you already started deleting me?
Are you brave enough to tell the world who you are? If you are really alone, with nothing to lose, you can do it. But I am not sure this is the case with you.

I have never existed for anyone else outside of your mind. I was a secret, something to hide, something to be taken at small pieces but not too much. Something that you could not show because I was not what your small world expected by you.

I have been brave. I have destroyed two world to be with you.
You kept your world and you have built a parallel world just for me. And, sorry, but I don't give a damn of just a parallel world. I wanted the whole of you. And that night, in Milan, the first night, it has been a piece of magic world.

But once again, someone else was better than me. Even if the sex was great, despite my kindness, despite the time spent listening to what your heart wanted to tell me, despite I was "the only one who could understand who you are'.

Take care, sweet dream of two letters.
I will survive. I have to.

Noodles.
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

Wasn't Rome supposed to be sunny?

"It's being a bad day, please don't take a picture".

(Looking forward to my return plane...)
--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

A memory from the past - our "first time"

It has been a very long wait.
We have spent lot of time thinking to it, guessing how it could be, dreaming about it.
We both knew it would have been wonderful and we took our time.

And when the time finally arrived, we were almost asleep. After a long, never-ending night talking, kissing, teasing and touching.
Your skin so perfect, white and clean like snow at the north pole.
Your smell so incredibly good, something I will never be able to forget.

The time arrived unexpected, unplanned. The night could go on without it and it would have been wonderful anyway.
But at some point your lips became more adventurous, your tongue decided that I had to be yours and you took me all. Not only my body but a big part of my soul as well.

You have been taking care of me. Totally. And I felt like I could let myself go with you. It has been a matter of just a word, just a glance and all has been clear. In a second we understood the time was arrived and you have felt my desire growing slowly. You liked it and you have kept taking care of me.

And you felt a big energy coming from somewhere deep inside my body. An energy that I could not hold back anymore and you explained to me, with a single look, that it was time to share this energy with you.
So we did. And for a little while the whole world stopped.

I was yours, totally yours. Like a river to the sea.

Do you remember?

I think I did not listen to this song for quite a long time. But tonight, after the discussion we have had today, I was singing this song while driving home. And for the first time after years I decided to listen to it, to keep it all in my mind and I found it very close to what we did.
I am sorry darling. I am really sorry for the whole mess we did. I did my best, please believe me. I did my best to try to forget the lies but so far I have been unable to. And now I can not afford another arrow in my heart and considering the past the risk is too high for my heart. The last time I have tried to let me go, I received a very hurting arrow that almost killed me. It was in a form of a small but very important lie.
I remember perfectly where I was, what I was doing and what I felt the whole night. And in the morning the waiter asked me if I was ok because I could not sleep the whole night. The worst weekend I can remember in the last year.
I am really sorry darling, I hope one day you will understand.




"We never talked about it
But I hear the blame was mine
I’d call you up to say I’m sorry
But I wouldn’t want to waste your time

’cos I love you, but I can’t take any more
There’s a look I can’t describe in your eyes
Yes we could try, like we tried before
When you kept on telling me those lies

Do you remember...?

There seemed no way to make up
’cos it seemed your mind was set
And the way you looked it told me
It’s a look I know I’ll never forget

You could’ve come over to my side
You could’ve let me know
You could’ve tried to see the distance between us
But it seemed too far for you to go.

Do you remember...?

Through all of my life
In spite of all the pain
You know people are funny sometimes
’cos they just can’t wait
To get hurt again

Do you remember...?

There are things we won’t recall
Feelings we’ll never find
It’s taken so long to see it
Cos we never seemed to have the time

There was always something more important to do
More important to say
But I love you wasn’t one of those things
And now it’s too late

Do you remember...?"

Rain, tent and night memories...

When I was 10 I was in love with a sweet girl.
Alessandra was one of those girl that are always smiling, changing suddenly in a terrible mood because you said or did something wrong. But the was "my girl" and she has been for a little while.
We could not show to the rest of the world and another guy was in love with her. But he never succeeded, or at least this is what I have always tought.
We used to spend afternoons playing volleyball. And I remember I was always trying to have the ball to fall in the cellar so we could go down to look for the ball and kiss each other. It was not a real kiss, it was just lips against lips, open eyes, in a funny attitude. But I remember my heart beating like the drum at the end of "In the air tonight". It was so cool, even if I could not understand completely why in the movies the actors were so excited about kisses.

I used to have a small fantasy at that time, when going to sleep. I was dreaming of being with her in a field somewhere in the mountains. And we used to have a tent in that field where we could spend the night.
And the tent was a kind of "secret world".
In the open-eyes dream we could be in the tent together. It was just a matter of fasten the zip and the world outside did not exist. The zip was our door to the rest of the world and we could decide to open or to close it.
I remember myself laying on my bed with my brother talking but I was invisible. I was under the tent and nothing could touch me. And in my fantasy, she was with me, in a perfect world. And the animals, the people, the rain outside... they simply did not exist.

Tonight, we have lot of rain here. From my bed I can hear perfectly the sweet sound of the rain coming down. The rain is beating against the window, tic tic tic tic...
I closed the outside window before, so tomorrow morning I can sleep a few minutes more with no light waking me up. And when I closed I could feel the rain.
And this old childhood fantasy came back, like the smell of coffee in my grand-mother kitchen.
Where is Alessandra now? According to a Facebook friend she is married and she has a lovely baby.

She did what she was meant to do. 

And where am I?

About my first kiss!

I was 14 and she was a sweet Italian lady spending time in the UK. Today I have been thinking and writing about her while replying to a post on another blog (In My London Shoes - I hope Anna does not mind I linked it).

A few months later I have read "Narziss and Goldmund", a book by Herman Hesse. At some point I have reached a paragraph that strongly reminded me the exact words I said before the first kiss. So, tonite, as a sweet gift to her, I am posting here that part of the book I discovered 17 years ago.

He bent over Lise's face and began to kiss her lips in the darkness. Suddenly he saw her eyes and forehead shine with a gentle light. He looked  in surprise, watched  the  glow  grow  brighter, more intense. Then he knew and turned his head: the moon was rising over the edge of  the  long black stretch of forest. He watched the white gentle light miraculously inundate her forehead, her cheeks, slide over her round, limpid throat. Softly, delighted, he said: "How beautiful you are!" 

She smiled as though a present had been made her. He sat up; gently he pulled the gown off her shoulders, helped her out of it, peeled her until her shoulders and breasts shone in the cool light of the moon. Completely enraptured, he followed the delicate shadows with eyes and lips, looking and kissing; she held still as though under a spell, with eyes cast down and a solemn expression as though, even to her, her beauty was being discovered and revealed for the first time.

I hope you like it at least a tenth of how I like it.

Saturday lunch

Small and very old restaurant in the hills. A few tables, the waiter speak almost only dialect and guests are keen to speak to each other.
A young woman was there with her daughter. Very close to each other and the lady had a wonderful attitude.
A couple willing to tell everything about their life together.
Two guys simply having lunch and drinking wonderful wine.

Will need a few hours to recover now! :-)

As you can see, the appetizers were kind of a good start! :-)

--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

Wicked game

Disclaimer: I have chosen the video below because the song is great and not, absolutely not, because of Helena Christensen half naked and iper sexy during the whole video!

"What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
And I don't wanna fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
And I don't want to fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]"

In love, what percentage of things are done to "secure" the other person to ourselves?
How often do we play a "wicked game" just to make sure the other person will remain with us?

Noodles @ Genova, Italy

"Ora lo so
io non ci credo più
alle promesse dei mercanti nel tempo
e anche un'idea è un'utopia
in questo tempo di ordinaria follia

Dove si nascondono gli angeli
quando a terra cadono gli uomini
non ci sono più cieli cieli limpidi
io non so se guarirà
questo tempo che più pace non ha"

(E.R.)

--
Sent from my mobile device

Volver

Tengo miedo del encuentro
con el pasado que vuelve
a enfrentarse con mi vida...
Tengo miedo de las noches
que pobladas de recuerdos
encadenan mi soñar.

(I am frightened of the meeting
With the past that is returning
To confront my life all over.
I am frightened of the nighttimes
When my dreams are linked and fleeting
And old memories come to stay)


The question for tonite is: "Why have we lost that moment? Can that magic return?"

Toc toc toc

"Wake up (Noodles).
Follow the white rabbit".

Ok cool. But where is my rabbit?

--
Sent from my mobile device

A cloud is a river who already knows the sea.

Picture taken from the plane.

--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

La Lluvia (tambien) en Sevilla es una Maravilla

Sevilla is the city.
Sevilla is the place I would really like to live in.
Everything is slow and poetry there. The small streets in the center of the city, the river, the warm sun at the end of September during the Feria de San Miguel. Los toros, pas tapas, las cervecitas y las mujeres.
La lluvia tambien en Sevilla es una Maravilla.

This place is all about fun and joie de vivre. Not because you can dance in a disco until 4AM. Because people is great and the place is wonderful.

It is a place where you can walk around and people smile. People move slowly, never in a hurry. You can spend time doing nothing or simply feeling the warm sensation of the sun in Plaza de Espana. Where you can take a small tour of Spain as you can see references and corners of any Spanish province.
It is a place with passion. Where people wants to have fun together, where it is easy to talk even if you Spanish is crappy and almost nobody speak English. People will tell about their life doing their best to let you understand.

I have been in a taperia. Crowd of people, drinking small beers (becuase the cerveca must be "glacial" and if it is too big it will get warm before you finish), eating great food. With the local guys willing to know why a guy from Italy likes a Spanish city so much. And I have got people willing to explain me the history of the Betis team in 1907 and what happened during the Civil War to the team members who have been killed.
The offered me their food becuase they found it amazing and I could not leave Sevilla without trying that particular tapa.

I have met a lady with whom it was impossible to communicate because of the lack of common language. She could understand what I said but she could not answer back without long and funny hand movements to explain just a single word. But at some point, with a single glance she told me what she meant and what she wanted because the "Language of the World" sometimes can go beyond words.

Or another sweet and funny lady wanted to explain me the meaning of her name. Rocio. "Mi nombre significa la lluvia de la manana". My names means the rain of the morning. Dew. Isn't this something really amazing?  Lluvia de la manana. This sentence amazed me. And the way people speak, the accent, is just wonderful.

Or that Brazilian guy. Running a restaurant with his boyfriend. A restaurant where to be hired you have to come from abroad. There is the Brazilian guy, his boyfriend from Holland, a guy from Venezuela, France, Argentina, Peru. The idea is that any of them brings a flavour from his country and his culture. And the food is just an amazing mix of all of those.

Since I have arrived in the city I kept singing a song in my head. It is an old song in Spanish that my "second mind" keeps pushing to me. The reference to the second mind is peculiar and not sure it is easy to understand. I have copied the lyrics so I can have it here.

<<
Duermen en mi jardin
las blancas azucenas, los nardos y las rosas,
Mi alma muy triste y pesarosa
a las flores quiere ocultar su amargo dolor.

Yo no quiero que las flores sepan
los tormentos que me da la vida.
Si supieran lo que estoy sufriendo
por mis penas llorarían también.

Silencio, que están durmiendo
los nardos y las azucenas.
No quiero que sepan mis penas
porque si me ven llorando morirán.
>>

During this trip I did not visit any monument. I was not that interested. The city was much more than enough and I am looking forward for the next fiesta or for a good Opera en el "Teatro de la Maestranza" to have an excuse to come back. As this place is magic. And you can not understand the beauty of a full moon appearing beyond the Cathedral while looking to the profile of the city from the other bank of the Guadalquivir. You can not until you actually see it.

I just realized that this posts is full of small details because this is what I look for. Because life is a matter of details. The whole picture will take care of itself. Details can make the difference.

Noodles in the air.

--
Sent from a tiny keyboard
Please ignore typos unless they are funny

Travel is a means to and end. Home.

The sentence in the title is something I feel really mine.
It has been an inspiring sentence. I was in London, just arrived after
a long and problematic flight. I took the train from Heatrow and I
ended up in Paddington at 6pm.
Lot of people walking around, lot of noise and I think I did look like
a farmer just arrived in town. In a city he does not like, in a place
he does not know.
I finally understood where to go and I bought the Oyster card and the
guy gave me a card holder with the Ikea logo and the sentence "Travel
is a means to and end. Home". I felt strange while reading it in front
of the train track. I felt at home and safe for a little while and I
kept that insignificant object in my hand for the whole journey to my
hotel. It was very cold and I was feeling alone but that yellow stuff
kept me safe.
I remember the feeling in the room. Lot of rain outside and a little
world inside where I could relax with no risks. Weird. I usually like
to travel but not that time.
Maybe because I wanted a specific person to be there.

Today I am travelling as well.
No business class, no VIP lounge, no great hotel to check in.
Today is for myself. This is the first blog post written on my mobile
from a plane! :-)
I am flying with a cheap airline on a blue and yellow seat. I hate
that airline but they are the only one flying where I wanna go. The
plane departed at 6AM and it is not really fun.
I will arrive in a city I love and I know quite well. I will leave the
arrival lounge with people who maybe are there for the first time.
Usually couples. I have got two young guys in my row. They are sweet,
they kiss each other every 5 minutes (I have to say he is quite
brave... ;-)). I hope they willl enjoy the city as I did my first
time. They are reading a Lonely Planet guide. I kind of envy them. If
they are lucky and inspired they will be able to see the magic of that
city and the poetry in the small streets, in the guys talking in a
lovely language who make you feel happy.

I will see the same places once again. I will have breakfast in the
same bar as that's the one where my love story with the city began. I
will walk in the park and take a bus or a bike to that inspiring
Church. I will climb to the top of the tower, take the boat in the
River, see the bloody show screaming if the guy is bad, clapping loud
while standing if the guy has been good.
Nothing new. But everything so *mine*
And I will be alone this time as well. Travelling alone is tough. When
you prepare your luggage you feel a bit stupid. And you fear you will
not like it. You fear you will be out of your confort zone. And at the
end you will be. But usually it is inspiring. I love it, despite it is
sad and unconfortable from time to time.

The sun just began to show himself beyond the clouds. It is orange and
very nice to see. The unknown cities below are waking up but you can
still see the lights of the night. This is the part of the early
morning flight I prefer.

Funny enough, I am having a cup of hot tea and a Shortbread. This
brings me back to another solo trip to Glasgow. A solo day-trip to
attend a concert. Maybe I am meant to make all of those discovery
alone?
Maybe being in a couple visiting new things is just another way but
not more interesting? For sure they are couples here who would not
even notice the sun and the lights below. They might not smell the air
in that city. They might focus on the main must-see places forgetting
the soul of the place. If that's the case, this time being alone is
better.

If you arrived to read this sentence you are very patient or just as
crazy as I am! :-)

Noodlles in the air.
(noodles.homewood at gmail.com)

--
Sent from my mobile device

La Boheme - O Mimi tu più non torni

At the beginning of the wonderful Act IV, Marcello and Rodolfo are pretending to work, though they are primarily bemoaning the loss of their respective loves, Musetta and Mimi.
This is not the most famous aria of the Boheme opera but for sure it is one of my favourites.

The idea of the loved woman is filling up the heart and the mind of the two bohemiens. Reading what Giacomo Puccini ask them to sing is simply amazing. Pure poetry together with a music that will make your heart shuddering. (English version below, in red the parts I love more)


Rodolfo:
O Mimì, tu più non torni. 
O giorni belli, 
Piccole mani, odorosi capelli, 
Collo di neve! Ah! Mimi, 
Mia breve gioventù.


Marcello: 
Io non so come sia 
Che il mio pennello lavori 
E impasti colori contro voglia mia. 
Se pingere mi piace 
O cieli o terre 
O inverni o primavere, 
Egli mi traccia due pupille nere 
E una bocca procace, 
E n'esce di Musetta il viso ancor...


Rodolfo:
E tu, cuffietta lieve, 
Che sotto il guancial partendo 
Ascose, tutta sai 
La nostra felicità, 
Vien sul mio cor, 
Su mio cor morto, 
Poichè è morto amor.


Marcello:
E n'esce di Musetta il viso 
Tutto vezzi e tutto frode. 
Musetta intanto gode 
E il mio cuor vile 
La chiama ed aspetta.


Rodolfo: O Mimi, you won't return! O lovely days! Those tiny hands, those sweet-smelling locks, that snowy neck! Ah! Mimi! My short-lived youth.
Marcello: I don't understand how my brush works and mixes colours to spite me. Whether I want to paint earth or sky, spring or winter, the brush outlines two dark eyes and inviting lips, and Musetta's face comes out...
Rodolfo: And you, little pink bonnet, that she hid under the pilow as she left, you know all of our joy. Come to my heart, my heart that's dead with our dead love.
Marcello: Her face comes forward then, so lovely and so false. Meanwhile Musetta is happy and my cowardly heart calls her, and waits for her.

Casablanca

I have run this question with a few people in the last months and now I would like to share it here.

Casablanca is probably one of the most famous films of all time.
It is a love story between Rick, a cynical American escaped from the US for an unknown reason, Ilsa, a pretty Norwegian girl who met Rick in Paris a few days before the German marched into Paris and Victor, a famous fugitive of the Czech Resistance she has always been with.
Ilsa and Victor were married and she tought he was dead when she meet Rick. Before escaping from Paris with Rick, she get informed that Victor is still alive and then she decides not follow Rick. He will be waiting at the Paris station like "a guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out".

They all meet again in Casablanca. At the end of the movie all of them are willing to leave Casablanca for political reasons and Rick has only two letter of transit. He decides that Victor and Ilsa will leave, while he will stay there.

Here is the terrific ending dialog:

Rick: Last night we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong.
Ilsa: But, Richard, no, I... I...
Rick: Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp. Isn't that true, Louie?
Captain Renault: I'm afraid Major Strasser would insist.
Ilsa: You're saying this only to make me go.
Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.
Ilsa: But what about us?
Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.
Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you.
Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.
Rick: Now, now...
Rick: Here's looking at you kid.

Did he take the right decision? Love should never be interrupted? Or was he fearing a comparison and come out as the loser?

I am Rick.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3odtrWWc2A

Dark room, endless night

In the dark room
he can only see a small flame in her eyes
and that is enough to demonstrate that it is true.

Her skin is clear,
her smile is something he will have hard time to forget.
She keeps his head in her hands
to protect him from the world outside.

There is no need to talk
being there, with her mouth just a couple of inches from his lips,
is close to be ones.

Tomorrow everything will be different,
they will never forget that endless night.
It is a gift for the both of them,
not expected, not desired, not deserved.

Day recap

A tough day.
You have been driving, calling, emailing from the berry. Meeting, smiling, pretending, hiding.

At 10.40PM you realize the day is gone. Business only. Just a few moments for yourself.
In general this is not the day you want but today is ok. You need days when you have to rush. You need days when you have to get mad because that deal is not going to get closed anytime soon and you need it to make the quota.

You can spend the whole day keeping your head busy with things you will not remember. Things that are not really important in your life. Will you remember why you got mad at work in 6 months?

On the other hand, will you remember that glance in the book store?
A few seconds that can wake you up.
Probably yes. Even if you did not talk. Even if she did not talk. She just went away smiling as you did.
Did it really happen? Not today. Today it is just what could have made your day a day to remember.

The song of songs

How beautiful are your feet
In sandals, O prince's daughter
Your navel is a bowl
Well-rounded with no lack of wine
Your belly, a heap of wheat
Surrounded with lilies
Your breasts,
Clusters of grapes
Your breath,
Sweet-scented as apples

New Phil Cd...

If you are not aware, the new CD of Phil Collins is out now.
I am listening it on Spotify beating the time with my feet and dancing like a baby!

It is quite old-style. It is a cd of cover of Motown songs. Not exciting as some older records but still a great return.
It makes me think I could even fly to London if he would make a concert there! ;-)

Too bad he won't do it. He is retired! ^_^

(http://www.philcollins.com)

Good will hunting - terrific scene

This is my favourite dialogue of the movie.

I ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable— known someone that could level you with her eyes. Feeling like God put an angel on Earth just for you. That could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it’s like to be her angel. To have that love for her, be there for forever. Through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term 'visiting hours' don't apply to you. You don’t know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.

from: Good Will Hunting, 1997

About love - a quote

Q: What do they say? (about making love with someone)

A: That you can lose yourself. Everything. All boundaries. All time. That two bodies can become so mixed up, that you don't know who's who or what's what. And just when the sweet confusion is so intense you think you're gonna die... you kind of do. Leaving you alone in your separate body, but the one you love is still there. That's a miracle. You can go to heaven and come back alive. You can go back anytime you want with the one you love. 

from "The Bicentennial Man", 1999

The winner stands alone

I have read this book by Paulo Coelho and I am not sure I got the meaning.
In the book, Igor kills several people to get his wife back but at the end he is still alone. Maybe the meaning is that we are made to be, in our secret world, always alone?
I have always feared to be alone and after lot of changes in my life I find myself alone. It is not the end of the world, it is just a matter of being aware of the fact that you can count only on yourself.

I have friends and some of them are very important. But I am not their first priority. Everyone is is own first priority and tonight I realized that I can not base my mood on someone else presence / feedbacks / feelings.
I have my books to read, my dreams to realize, my toughts in mind, my interests. And I like all of them. I have something great to share but I am not desperately looking for someone to share with. Not anymore.

Gray and windy afternoon

I left the office in a gray afternoon.
It looks like we are going to get rain here. It is supposed to be a sunny place but now the sky is dark and the wind is suggesting to rush at home. Tourists are looking around in the Square. Everybody comes here to see that Square and it is nice to walk in the middle, looking to guys arrived from the other part of the world taking pictures and promising love forever.

The cold wind reminds me that I am alive. I feel my skin cold and I would like to have fog as well, as this is what we are used to.
Fog makes you almost blind. You leave your home and you do not see where you are going. But you know it. And fog makes everything more confortable (except driving). Lot of "white" in the air and you feel relaxed.

I walk in the square knowing that I am probably the only one enjoying the cold wind. And I like it. I like the idea that I take care of details that other people might not even notice. I stop for a little while and I look to the world as if it was a window I can spy from outside. And it is a relaxing feeling.
I think to the people in my life and I am afraid there are very few who can understand this feeling. Are you, unknown reader, one of them?

Looking forward for November. I am in the mood of something like in the picture... Sweet mood today...

Need a change?

When I was 17 I read a quote that went something like "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself, "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "no" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something. Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important thing I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life, because almost everything--all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure--these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

(Steve Jobs)

That sweet...

The hotel is not fancy. It is clean, people is kind and gentle. But it
is not the same kind of hotel I am used to be when travelling for
business.
Here, people seems to care when they say "Good morning". Nobody is
asking your room number when getting in or when you are going for
breakfast.

In early morning the breakfast room is empty. Lot of small things on
the table including *that* sweet. The ones that you did not see since
a long time. Probably last time I have tried it I was 12 in my grand
mother house. It has been strange to come in this isolate place, far
away from my usual path, to find again that sweet. I did not even know
you could buy it any longer.

This made my day. Now it is time for a short walk.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Kind or clever?

"One day you will understand that it's harder to be kind than clever... Cleverness is a gift, kindness is a choice" (Jeff Bezos)



Jeff Bezos: What matters more than your talents | Video on TED.com

The barman

This morning I have entered in a new bar for breakfast.
The guy is about 55. He said hello to a lady, wonderful lady. We look to each other as men do while he is preparing my coffee.
"You know, I have been away for 9 months".
In 5 minutes he tells me more or less his life. Is this a sign? Maktub.
"I have been living in Milan for 25 years. I have worked here for 17 years and then I decided I wanted to change. It is not easy, you know? You need to take courage and do it. But I needed to see other places, other people. At the end the bar owner called me back and I am back. I have tried to stay away from this city but I missed the caos that you can find here, the "business men" entering the bar with the newspaper on one hand and the Blackberry on the other hand."
He tells this in a deferential way, as if he is thinking that he is a step below the rest of the world. But it is wrong. He is a step above than anyone else, or at least at the same level. Maybe not from a financial perspective but I am not sure this is what really matter.
For sure he is not part of the Superclass.

Paulo Coelho wrote:

It didn’t take him long to see that the Superclass are as dependent on their success as an addict is on his drugs, and nowhere near as happy as those who want nothing more than a house, a garden, a child playing, a plate of food on the table, and a fire in winter.

The guy is from South of Italy. And he talks about his home with the eyes of someone who has lot of experience. When I go home, everything is quiet and nice. You feel alright, lot of people take care of you, you drink and eat the whole day. "I have tried to work there but I missed Milan and the caos".
Adaptation. Or, maybe, simply crazyness.

He spoke to me about "the son of my wife" as if it is a normal thing to happen. Maybe he was talking about a love that is "beyond".
His tie with a questionable node, a old white shirt and a jacket that would keep you hot even if mid December.
BUt he takes care of the bar, of *his* coffee machine and he makes hundred of coffee per day. But always impeccable. Because even in what you do everyday you have to be impeccable, not only when doing special things.

Why this name?

Here is the reason.

I have always been a fan of Peter Gabriel.
I have seen him live a few times and when he introduces my favourite song he is used to say:

Sometimes you can see a couple so close together, it gets hard to distiguish which one is which. And bits of them disappear into a space that forms between them. This we could indentify as the Secret World

And the song is simply great.
The idea behind this blog is to write what I have in mind. It will be in English or Italian, depending on the mood.

Sometimes I want to quote a book, show to my little and Secret World what I am listening to, where I am or simply what feeling a sunset gave me. This might happen here.