luvi
Let me be tired
Let me rot and lay my bones on you. I have yet to arrive, this road is long and full of turns, but let me cry at the cells growing in our throats. Time folds onto itself, skin touching skin, saliva from my mouth to yours, from your mouth to
October ’25
On rest, holiday, listening, forced/voluntary disconnection and searching for life direction.
As I fall back into this nothingness
It is imperative that I remind myself that the four walls that enclose the air I breathe do not delimit the world end. It is paramount for me to look at and witness my life as it unfolds in front of my eyes. A book contains its story even when
This Christmas starts with me having to choose new shoes
I got given a 200€ voucher that I can spend on Zalando and my Doc Martens that I bought 13 years ago are reaching a non-return point. Six months ago I put some duct tape inside to cover the hole that made their waterproofness a lie. It’s working so far,
How many stops
Between me and homeTime is still in its flowingA river never changesOr always does I live through realitiesI am nothing but a plantAn iPhone in my hand
I have told myself to write and I have not written
A no inside my chest, I refuse anything I can refuse. Words come out of my fingers only when emotions can’t come out of my eyes. When my mouth becomes a container of laughter and wetness, when my life feels in technicolor, the page stays immensely white. No black ink
Reminding myself
Even if sometimes it feels that the only state of my existence is solid lava on my green sofa, melted together, organic and inorganic at once, I have to keep reminding myself that I have, in fact, lived. I am, in fact, alive.
I bike through this city
That has defined me to such an extent. I zoom through the people of this land without bike lanes. Google has forced me to pass through the Duomo and through these human fields who stormed the streets for no reason I know of. As I avoid just by the blink
Kitchen Chair
Melting on the kitchen chairI have managed a coffee My limbs fall to the groundThe heavy gravity of life A streak of sunOh, to be a daisy
25° giorno senza interruzioni
And I allow myself to imagine this aeroplane exploding. The dirty underwear of the woman two seats in front of me, previously thrown into a tightly-closed plastic bag in her metal trolley, is suddenly in the air, flying next to a destroyed MacBook Pro. A coffee cup, shattered to pieces,