I woke up and looked at the phone which had been flashing for an hour with the “BBC News” which illuminate my bedroom every morning and which I systematically forget to turn off in the evening before going to sleep.

I read the news, nothing extraordinary, I opened my online bank account and made some payments before I forget.

I still have in my head the documentary I saw on TV last night; I must say that it was not the documentary itself that struck me, but that guitar used for the soundtrack of the same. I still haven’t understood what it was, but it was a guitar with an almost sick sound, which remembered certain languid things of Robert Fripp, but it wasn’t him. Indeed it wasn’t.

I’ll probably do more research online today to find out what I’ve been missing.

Who knows how it will go today, yesterday I met this girl at the bar who was passionately reading a book, talking about injustices and feminist struggles, she would have been 18 years old, maybe 19 at the latest and I don’t know why ‘I gave her a smile, and she did the same.

Maybe she understood that I was proud to see such a young and pretty girl interested in significant things and not only in how to dress or put on makeup in the morning or where to spend Friday nights. Or maybe just chatting on Instagram or Facebook. And that’s why I was happy to have seen this scene in front of me. It was a breath of fresh air.

Once I was perhaps more interested in these things, in social and political issues, then I asked myself what really mattered to me or if others really needed my interest and in the end, I answered myself that the combination of various elements and events, advised me to take care of myself, first of all.

My people, take pictures, listen to music, make new acquaintances, go to dinners where you meet new people, exchange opinions, experiences, meet people from various parts of the world. Rich or very poor people, people … people, breaths, gazes, different accents, multiple religions, being surprised to see certainties or beliefs fall. All personal things, direct experiences but which I found more exciting and more political than when I was in politics and engaged in social work

I love reading, listening to music, and even writing, albeit poorly, even if not correctly, and now I’m also trying to write only in English: madness.

But I like to express myself, to open up, and it is not said that you have to be a virtuoso of the instrument to make good records and so I hope my writing is not bad. My dream is to write a book one day when I’ll finish to worry about how to pay the bills every month, perhaps one of the ten books that I started but never continued beyond the thirtieth page

At the moment, I like to walk in the city, in my neighborhood, and see men and women walking side by side in harmony, and I want to see this harmony forever, and I hope that nobody ever gets to the point of destroying this great thing that is living together.

And then I like to go home tired, sitting on the subway or on the bus and other men and women sitting in harmony, one next to the other, so different but so united.

I see movies or read stories where this harmony has been interrupted, and where this happens, pain takes over, and life is no longer as bright as it should be.

There is a beautiful English word which is “rekindle,” which means “revive,” “bounce back,” “revitalize,” it is a lovely word also in Italian, with positive meanings and that gives hope and opens horizons. Still, in English, it also has a sweet sound, almost musical, indeed, certainly “musical.” Perfect for the start of a new romance. You use this word when you start a relationship again, for example.

I have had this word in my head for days, since I heard it singing in a song, and it is from that day that I have this post in my head.

And it is at this exact point that my post today ends … without a real sense, as it began.

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