Clichés & beyond: 8th of March

We all know the true story behind this day. We have all been part, at least once in life, of its misleading interpretation (yes, myself included: when I was 15, this was an extra opportunity to convince my mum to let me go outside and hang with my girlfriends a little later than the usual…

Fit your shoes: the art of giving up

One thing I have always been extremely bad at, is giving up. Which could sound like something very self-aggrandizing - a bit like when, during a job interview, we are asked to list our flaws and we all say "I am a perfectionist" - but I promise it's not. This feature of mine allowed me,…

Big city lights: Bright Brussels

Since I moved to Belgium, light has became a sensitive topic. One of my biggest cultural shocks in changing country has been to discover that during winter, here and I guess in pretty much all Northern Europe, the sun rises around 8.30-8:45 in the morning (so, pretty late) and already disappears at 16.30 at the…

A trip in my memories.

Sometimes, to travel is not only a physical move in the geographical space. If you have read my post about January here, you know already that this is, together with February, a very challenging and low-energy level couple of months for me. So, I have developed a set of tricks to get through it, and survive…

Fighting January’s blues: hip-hop at Studio Vibes

Of all the months of the year, January is the one I dislike the most. I would like to say that, being back from the Xmas break, I am all full of energy, optimistic and ready to face the new year, but this would not be even close to truth. As much as I try,…

Slow Fashion: swap parties and second-hand experience

When I arrived in Brussels, I was truly (and positively) impressed by the number of flea markets and vintage clothes shops in the city. In Italy, or, to be more accurate, in the Italian cities I have lived in, buying second-hand it's not something so widespread. Vintage boutiques are still kind of rare, and even…

Meme-oire

La memoria é quel potente, intelligentissimo strumento che sa ricordare, ma che allo stesso modo sa cancellare, e non c'é verso di tornare indietro. Ha le sue cadute, i suoi momenti - quelli in cui, disperatamente, vorresti che la lobotomia fosse una procedura coperta dalla mutua e fattibile in day hospital - ma, di base,…

Una lettera che non ho mai scritto

"Un altro addio/cadere nell oblio/cercarsi per un po'/nel whisky di un bistrot Un giorno qualunque/mi ricordero'/di dimenticarti/dentro a un cestino" Da quando ho memoria, ho scritto sulla carta. Lettere, biglietti, post-it, a mia madre, a mia sorella prima di ripartire, alle mie amiche, a quelli che ho amato o ferito, anche a quelli che ho…

OUblier

Lunedi' mattina, pioggia, sei gradi, aria già natalizia, voglia di casa, voglia di tepore, coperte, film. Mi godo questo momento di immoralità, questo mio peccatuccio da quattro soldi perché alla scrivania rubo tempo retribuito per dar voce ai miei pensieri che non cambieranno il mondo né lo renderanno un posto migliore. Ma a ciascuno i…

Le nostre (troppo) grandi aspettative

A volte, quando hai da dire troppo, scegli di non farlo affatto. E poi ti imbatti in parole altrui, che ti colpiscono, ti rubano i pensieri mentre cerchi di goderti la tua ora di relax post-lavoro sul divano, con una tazza di thé e la luce che in questo paese resiste fino a tardi. Quindi…