Just Maybe Forse Ciao

"When you feel like you don't understand what is going on anymore...trust me". "Trust the things that illuminate not the things that are just illuminated". She wishes she could say, while saying goodbye to Melbourne, for now.  "I'll be back sooner than you know, and it will be warmer and I'll know the streets' names this time, and it will feel like seeing the things that illuminate, again". If things that illuminate were clearer, all of a sudden, than things that are illuminated instead - if the active lights were brighter than the receiving ones - if only love, that loves and illuminates, was clearer than love that is loved or received or imposed - she swears she could breathe a little better right now, walking down Lygon Street and looking for the fresh pasta today. "I could tell her not to worry, that really I am nowhere near anything she treasures, that really I understand, or I try, to understand things that illum...

"I am happy, I really am". You say.  "I have seen so much Australia lately, so much new world".  "I am happy, I really am". He said. His voice resounds in your head, while you get ready to go catch the tram. It's winter and you need to go see the water.  What's the difference between your words and his, after all.  After all, "the positives outweigh the negatives". He said. It was a warm night of last month that seems to have happened two years ago. And he looked everything but fine. You wish you could forget his face.  You looked at him wondering whether he was convincing himself or you. "You don't have to worry, please don't worry, I am happy". You will not worry, you will believe him, you tell him, for now. "Against my better judgement, I wish I can believe you, I do, I must". Because people need to believe things to get on with their choices.  You do it all the time, Anna.  ...

The road to the countryside - to the land swallowed, ingested and spit out by the most internal part of Australia - is without visible scars.  Differently from the cities, from Sydney and Melbourne, that exhibit scars with pride, as I drive deeper and deeper inside the countryside, scars are forgotten.  It makes me wonder, how would it be to slow everything down and shut myself up, for once. Shut my feelings up.  There must be another way, I think, while endless hectares of yellow and green meadows condition my eyes, there must be another way to feel feelings.  I want it all - a recognised successful career, an intelligent enquiring, never-sleeping mind, adventures and friends, alcoholic crazy nights, turbulent sexual explorations and endless kissing, I want pancakes days and a best friend lover. I want freedom and yet dependency, I want love - my kind of gazing-to-the-stars love - without forgetting the depths of pain and the hell b...

The Melbourne's sun has been shining over me. The cold of winter, the wind that messes with your thoughts. In the Melbourne's sun I have forgotten you. In the fake Italian restaurants and the real Italian spirit hidden behind the markets, in the coffee, in the interrupted conversations I hear in the streets. Between the skyscrapers and the Yarra River. Across the bridges across the Southbank and on the trams down the beaches of St Kilda.  In the busy streets of the city and up the frozen calm of the Cemetery in Carlton. Between the needs of containment and the attempts for openness. Across the Fitzroy Gardens while Mumford & Sons play "Wilder Mind" in my ears.  While looking at streets' names where for every street there is a Little one too.  When discovering the narrow alleys and the coffee spots.  Exploring the Queen Victoria Market and eating an overpriced and good arancino. Smiling at the winter lights in Gertrude Street wh...