Tag Archive: pensieri

MTB fracassata grazie ad una portiera apertami praticamente in faccia.
Ero ai 20 all’ora verso i 25 in accelerazione.
Immaginate la botta e come si sente la mia spalla destra…giuro che sono più incazzata per la mia povera bici.


Tastiera del portatile che non risponde più nemmeno in hard reset.
Desktop che fa freeze nei momenti più impensati (quando ho bisogno di salvare la grafica appena finita, ovvio!)
Chevrolet darling senza benzina…

Questo è il succo della mia settimana precedente…poi chiedetemi perché ho un piede di porco.

Ti stamattina mi ha lanciato un’occhiata fugace ed è scappato dalla mia aura come se avessi un drago pronto a sputare fuoco.
Altro che Daenerys…



Sometimes the past labeled ‘Hate’ comes back.
It’s like pushing the trigger of a gun.
The bullet is released and the sound of the shot just cracks in the still air.

For me it can only come back with songs, now.
It’s a good thing ‘cause I control pretty much anything I hear these days for technology is wonder.
Today I wasn’t that lucky and I hate when it happens.

For it’s just songs, not even that good for my tastes, never really liked but still kept in an old music archive.
It was barely 40 minutes – now agony – you said you liked.
Pop, hardly meaning anything profound.

Today it just went straight to my head,
with all those months thinking anything but rationally.
All those years mourning practically nothing.
Me, my cups and the fucking hope.
The sinister glint in my eyes under a canopy of trees long forgotten.
I truly hated for I wasn’t myself.
Search, find and destroy.


I thank daily every deity for I am still here on this Earth.
For I find I’m not bitter if my triggers stay unreleased.
For if I have known ‘hate’ I did bid it goodbye a long time ago.
I never searched for you, never I will.
I don’t care anymore and in a way it amuses me how needs and feelings can change.
Sometimes I feel a little blue, I write/work all night (Yes, I write, I still do that!), Consume my poor Chevrolet darling, find the time to nurture and watch my orchids flourish.
Bright colours, fluorescent skies, rolling hills in pale green, the ticking of my bike going down at full speed.
The sounds of morning, sun on my windshield.
It feels like change.
I do have changed in ways I doubt you would understand.
For I love, I share and I try to help.
The past made me what I am.
And it won’t return.

Coexisting in life is never easy.

We humans have so many ways of thinking and seeing things and taking critics.

Sometimes you just try honestly to help and all you receive is scorn for ‘YOU are not sharing MY views, admit it!’

Of course I see what you see, but I also see what I see, and possibly have an opinion of what the rest could see…truthful or polluted it may be.

There are days I truly resent helping for I know what I will gain.

Other days I help and stay silent and regret.

Truth and pain walk on the same cobble street often.

Family is family, I guess.

L’ho mai detto che da piccolina ero totalmente decisa a diventare astronauta?

No? xD

Beh la verità e che ho accantonato il progetto un bel po’ prima di iniziare le superiori.

Ma dai primi anni 2000, quando ci sembrava già di andare come dei fulmini con connessioni a 2 Mega al secondo pagati a peso d’oro ed a consumo (altro che i flat d’oggi! LoL), l’informazione e lo sharing di sapere ‘vero’ hanno raggiunto un grado di divulgazione meraviglioso.

Già lì mi perdevo in ore passate a tradurre con il poco inglese che sapevo (imparato ascoltando musica, eh, qualità assoluta!) ma adesso!

Vedi la prima immagine di un buco nero, la nuova missione ‘Moon to Mars’ americana, New Horizons che ci passa le immagini di Ultima Thule ed i tentativi vincenti dei cinesi, il carotaggio di Marte!

Sì, l’avete capito, la mia passione è viva e vegeta.

La sera se sono a casa e non ho straordinari mi guardo volentieri i filmati su Youtube della NASA con tutte le novità, addirittura il 35° congresso aerospaziale di quasi 3 ore ed, a volte, faccio una capatina a vedere il canale streaming Earth Views della ISS.

Non ho più molto tempo di guardare dal vivo le stelle, e meglio che tengo gli occhi incollati all’asfalto, ma cavolo…prima o poi arriveremo sulla Luna per rimanere.

Si capisce che sono gasata per questa cosa eh? xD

GO NASA!!! 🚀


We have our idiosyncrasies.
Sometimes I truly hate him, so much I want to tackle him and his fucking heavy-lifting frame with my 50 kilograms.
Other days he makes me purr, no-one’s ever done it before.
I could live wrapped around him like a tiny monkey, my arms around his neck and my face in his back…a living backpack.
Better place to sit on his lap and err…well…
I adore him when he drives delicately my chevrolet darling, when he lends me his shirts to use as pajamas (even his defeated look when this happens), his wardrobe, the quality of the morning light through his kitchen window, his cooking, the rings of smoke he blows when he’s thinking hard.
The smile when he understands he’s winning big, the way he goes for it like there’ll be no tomorrow.
How he walks in after we have a fight, totally aplomb.

Ti is still him.
I am still me.
We just walk side by side down the same road.
Happy & Glorious.



Photo by Ale Usama on Pexels.com


Crema solare. Check.

Occhiali da sole. Check.

Mountain Bike revisionata. Check.

Chevrolet darling lavata e lucidata. Check.

Controllo del sistema Kenwood. Check.

Notebook, smartphone e Canon. Check.

Capelli tagliati. Check.

Armadio Primavera/Estate. Check.

Andiamo a mordere l’asfalto e fare soldi.




Kindness is often mistaken for softness and let me tell you, friends….that is a mistake you don’t want to make. 

Kind people are not born that way, they do not stumble into it, kind people are forged in fire and darkness and imploding stars…they have steel cores. Throw a punch and you’re going to break your hand. 

Kind people are kind because they know firsthand that life isn’t.

I was just talking to someone about this. Kindness isn’t a natural-born trait, it’s a daily choice, so when you call someone kind you’re not praising their personality, you’re praising their effort. 


There was a ring I never took off when I was no more than a teen girl.
It wasn’t valuable, found it dirty and dusty at the end of a drawer in a long before abandoned house.
It missed a little tiny diamond on its cast and it was so tiny in size I could only wear it on my left ring finger.
The center stone was a smoothed out ruby with a square shape.
But the beauty in it was not the stones.
It was in the fine work on the silver.
The thin veneers running along the sides in fragile, intricate leaves that could only be made by hand and with skill.
I never seen since a work like that ever.
It fitted my finger to the point I thought it was made for me and me alone.
It was probably just a cheap trinket bought at a fair or something like that in the time when my grandmother was just a young girl.
She’s 96 now, I’m 30 and the ring is still with me.
Worthless and consumed, but the silver still shines and fits somewhat.
The leaves are still there and they mean a world never gone to me.
Afternoons and evenings, card games and teas, red roses and blue hydrangeas.

You have forgotten, Gran.
I did not.
You can’t remember.
I shall do it for you for all the time I’m still given on this Earth.


[coloured photo by Mike Savad]


Those shades leaden with so near blinding sun heat.

Black asphalt to run on carefree.

Me double mirrored on his sunglasses.

No places to be.

Sand under my naked feet.

Sweet smelling jasmine and ice-mint whiskeys.

My big dark blue straw hat, yes just the one that gives me that 30s diva look and he always fingers up to watch my eyes.

And that road never-ending under a sky so blue.

I was just so happy in those 3 days, Ti.

The sea scent lingering, the torches still lit and the laughter ringing in my ears.

“Are you daydreaming, Fräulein?”

“What if I do?”

“Keep your dreams close.”

I just smile, tightening my hold on his hand.

“I think I shall.”

La sfiga è affamata di vendetta.

Prima non son stata bene, poi mi sono mandata a quel paese da sola perché non mi posso permettere di fermarmi.

Proprio in quel momento sul Nord-Ovest è calata la mano di gelo polare artico dopo – oso dirlo! – un’estate di San Martino di tre mesi!

Ed io tapina che torno a casa ai 50 all’ora con una strizza da cani.

La chevrolet darling che bene o male teneva la strada in piano con la sua stazza e peso da bisonte, il mio piede tenuto in punta sul pedale e le ruote che scivolavano leggermente ad ogni ripartenza da fermo ma trovavano grip per spingere.

Ed io che stupidamente spero nel traffico fantasma e nel fatto che l’ABS mi avrebbe permesso un minimo di grip…giù di discesa.

Col cavolo…

La poverella ci ha provato, io possibilmente no.

La morale della favola è che la Chevrolet Darling non si è fatta un’emerita mazza, l’auto davanti invece sì…

Io avevo letto che la neve sarebbe arrivata oggi.

C’è il sole.

Tempo di merda.




It’s so disheartening when you don’t feel truly that well and you have things to do/try/create/change.

Sometimes you ignore the ill feeling and you get up just to see the room spinning so hard you throw up all that’s not residing in your stomach.

Then comes the doubt at what you can’t comprehend and the stillness of laying in bed in the light of day when everyone else is bustling about like angry bees.

The bore that is capable to make me so furious I could scream for good time gone to waste.

The room still spins now and I feel quite queasy.

I wish I could do more than stay in Ti’s bed and zap through tv channels on my notebook.

His place is so still and quiet it gives me the creeps without him.


oH, lOOk that glass marble, did you loose yours, my dear?

I did, somewhere alOng the way.

And things I never seen SO CLEARLY in all my life.

So dear is vision when you have one and you go right to the end of the path to get exactly the things you want.

Never be afraid of what you want.

Never hold yourself back.

Never balk and stop.


You want something?

You go out in the world and you only come back home when you OWN it.

Let others talk behind your back, you’re not a child anymore, you don’t need to prove your self-worth to anyone NEVER AGAIN.

Fuck them, work your ass off and reap the benefits.

Be the master of your Own Universe. 💪🏻

Ancient weary eyes looking at you from a youthful face.

As old as you feel, bones creaking and all.

A bed too small to lay on, midnight noon sweltering outside.

Heavy music from static-laden speakers, music so old no-one remembers it.

You don’t even remember when or where you met him, just the look in his eyes.

The too old holey t-shirt, the battered leather jacket and scuffed doctor martens.

Not uttering a word, laying there.

And every year past seems longer than ever watching those eyes dilating.

Future remains beyond, full of things you’ll never know until it’s their time.

The record’s playing, the air is still.

The wolf in your bed hums, as meek as a lamb.

As the sun scorches a thousand licking flames.

“Your eyes are blue, very odd.”

“Still blue? I thought not.”

“Very blue. How come?”

Lick your lips, no sweat over your upper lip, and smile.

“I was born with them.”

Somewhere a hammond is playing and the spirit soars.

Never will you learn how young is he in his old years.

Until you’ll be shown.

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