I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Maybe there is a reason, but I still don’t know exactly why

by Massimo Usai


I spent many hours of my childhood on train journeys moving from North to South, East and back to Piedmont.

Hours were travelling with my family trying to get the most out of life without investing too much.

Once, we slept on the train when someone for a few hours was checking a tunnel where someone had called there would be a bomb.

Wasn’t bomb that night, but a few weeks later was a real bomb there.

Together, we used to have breakfast and drink coffee every morning, so we did or for lunch and dinner.
Always together.

It was so typical that I didn’t realize it wasn’t usual in other families, it took years to figure it out.

While I was a kid, I played, free from any problems.

I have a picture of myself in white socks at 4 years old and believe me, this was not usual either.

I’m 60 years old, and my life isn’t perfect yet, and I’m sure it never will be.

There’s something I’d like to do.

To repeat the trips with my parents and sister and the fantastic one I did with Bruno (my friend) in 1983.

The trip that opened my mind and was so crucial to everything I did next.

Every single decision in my life is incredibly connected to that journey.

This short mix of memories has to lead somewhere, but I don’t know where.

Probably has to be put in order and develop a more complete story- a book or maybe something for Netflix?

I have no idea.

Maybe I miss spring and freedom to travel so much that I just posted a silly blog post today.

But it’s what is it and in the end I decided not to change a single word.

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