March 17th was my birthday.
This year was in such a delicate moment that I haven’t given myself time to live or fully perceive the festivities, even though I have had so many people who have done everything to surprise me and show me love. I tried to absorb it all despite the day didn’t go as I wanted.
I treasure all joy and small moments, I leave nothing behind. I thank my life for every new day and for these 24 intense years of life, growth and infinite love.
I took 7 hours to make this cake with pan di stelle, mascarpone, dyes and brushes. This is one of my and Mom’s favorites paintings, Van Gogh, a tribute to thank you for being the person of my life. Continue Reading
It’s not an easy time for me, now. Again.
I’m sorry guys if I’m not just happy and carefree, but I’m trying to share the real myself and what’s going on in me life right now as in an open diary. I need it. I would lie if I omitted. My blog has born for this my need to write and vent, so I will always be sincere – although not too specific.
My father isn’t well, and everything is aggravated – or lightened? – from the loss of my Mom, 16 months ago.
Yet again, I am positive. I know how life is right. I know how wonderful everything is if you look with the right lens, and I do it. I know that everything happens for a reason – right one. And that everything serves to teach us something fundamental and surmountable. Happiness is a choice, it depends on how you choose to look at life.
I would like to be able to help everyone in this, but I realize how complex it’s to listen, for others. So I try to leave you only an advice and ask you to trust me.
Never give up. Whatever may happen, anything life can tell you, any situation can meet you, any drama can call you, you
Up. Continue Reading
Lichtenstein is anti any pictorial rule. Using advertising images, trivializes mass information on reality, forces the observer to a reaction that leads him to reevaluate his expectation.
He exploits a feature of the comic book press (the pointillism) and exasperates it: what in the comics is a necessity to save on the colors, he makes it a distinctive reading key to show how much everything is relative and fiction.
I wanted to do the same. I started with an emulation of his work “Ohhh… Alright…” and then use his own expedients to show how much the photo shows of the real: nothing.
Through makeup and retouching, I chose to dress an alterego of myself with the obvious contradiction of unreality, to remember that what we show in a picture constitutes a construction of ourselves, that we could be absolutely whatever we decide. Photography suggests, invents, draws a parallel reality. Continue Reading
They asked me once if I felt more Alice or White rabbit. I replied, but then I thought about it.
I believe you can’t choose whether to be White rabbits or Alice. That we can’t choose a single road and stop for life. We must have clear ideas and a tendency, perhaps. To be good, happy, precise, White rabbits. But without precluding the possibility of wearing Alice’s childhood amazement from time to time. Let yourself be angry, occasionally, and be a little unhappy, occasionally.
You can’t just choose one road.
Life is open sea, we are on a raft and that is what we intend to continue doing. But a swim in the event of a storm must be the alternative to drowning. Continue Reading
Although this year Xmas takes more difficult to trace the line of lights of my enthusiasm, I tried to infuse it in those around me. I have prepared five trees and I have donated 3 with the same sentimental principle that I will now share. Mum also has her little tree, a guardian angel and a soldier ready to anything for her (our beloved Nutcracker).
I would like try to born even with you, step by step, this Christmas. Which means birth, novelty, and rebirth. Continue Reading
Perfection is a mental mirage that tarnishes the sight, it loses us in a continuous mistake and conditions our idea of happiness.
There is a whole phase of life in which we turn our gaze to a nonexistent perfection but which we believe to see in others.
It means constantly comparing with anyone, always feeling in competition, and in defeat.
It means losing, at a certain point, the meaning of things. Our sense. Our goodness, and our happiness.
We should learn to compare ourselves and measure ourselves only with what we were and what we are; others must be a spur to improve ourselves, never a model of comparison.
Over the years -of life- maturity takes over, which slowly and unknowingly leads us to make things perfect. Not to be content. But to be ourselves the key to perfection. To identify it, obtain it, make it happen. To transform imperfection into perfection, life into love. The pain in grow. And finally be happy. Continue Reading
I will never tire of comparing the life to a card game. Because it’s exactly how I see it. Everybody around circular tables, cards to the hand, playground lights. There is someone who laughs a lot, who smokes cigars, who studies others, who counts. Someone comes out of the game, who loses, someone wins. But no one is called out. Each of us can go out and return, each of us has played infinite games and millions will play again. The cards we have in hand they have been chosen by us on the experience of previous games and are our destiny. The way we play them is the free will. And they will determine what we will have in the next game.
We will never tire. Of playing. It’s an endless night. Whoever wants can decide to rest a few hours in the upstairs rooms. We will stay here to play until the last. Continue Reading
November 16th, 2017
One year as one day.
No sail on the horizon.
It frightens me the idea that one day it will be 5, 10, 20 years. A whole life without you.
It frightens me the idea that I can forget your voice, your expressions, the way you called me, how it was to live with you.
I’m scared to lose you, Mom.
To lose you inside.
Throughout this year I’ve lived as if you were just leaving home, on one of your trips.
As if every morning I woke up a second after you left, and every night felt asleep without being able to wait for you.
It was the most dreamy year of my life. It looks like yesterday and like never. It seems like a dream. That one where you there aren’t or those ones from night where you are in? I don’t distinguish perceptions, as if it were all real -or all unreal.
I’m lost. But I don’t want to lost you.
My love for you will not change, no matter how much time will pass. I’ll always love you the same way. This is a certainty.
I’ll continue to thank you for the life you gave me -the love, the experiences, the education, the culture- I’ll continue to be sure you are well and you are finally happy, I’ll continue to blame myself for this selfish lack that I feel. Sorry.
I always wanted happiness for you. But I could only help, not give it to you.
Now I should rejoice and that’s enough.
In my every prayers, from last year in the hospital, I always asked you to choose for yourself. What would been better for you. For once at least. Not to think about us. We would be fine and we love you.
Even through these tears, I’m proud of your choice. I, I would do the same.
Only once, in a dream, I allowed to give you a ticket while you leaving the front door knowing you wouldn’t be back: I wrote “Find an excuse to come back.” Find an excuse to stay with us.
I’m sorry. Continue Reading