Il Linguaggio del Corpo

Il corpo si muove, parla, non mente,dice quello che sente.Risponde a un richiamo, è un linguaggio, è un messaggio… In ogni gesto, in ogni movimento, il corpo racconta storie che le parole non possono esprimere. È un linguaggio silenzioso, ma potente, che comunica emozioni profonde e verità nascoste. Quando il corpo si muove, è come se danzasse con l’anima, rivelando desideri, paure e speranze. Ogni sguardo, ogni sorriso, ogni lacrima è un messaggio inviato al mondo. Non c’è bisogno di parole, perché il corpo parla con una sincerità che non conosce menzogna. È un richiamo primordiale, un linguaggio universale che … Continue reading Il Linguaggio del Corpo

Cleansing the Soul

Amidst the quietude of a sun-dappled morning, I embarked on a peculiar ritual—a cleansing of the intangible. Armed with metaphorical soap and water, I stood at the threshold of my mind, ready to scrub away the residue of yesteryears. First, the dreams. Those fragile, ephemeral things that once clung to my consciousness like morning dew on petals. I lathered them in suds, watching as they dissolved, swirling down the drain. Plans, too—they slipped through my fingers, leaving only a faint scent of possibility. Next, memories. Some were like old photographs, sepia-toned and faded, while others were vivid and sharp, capable … Continue reading Cleansing the Soul

My Body Is Beautiful

My body is not your community service project, nor is it your soulless fetish object. I do not need to justify my body to you or anyone. My body does not make me a joke, nor does it make me insensitive to your hurtful remarks. It is not an excuse for you to treat me like a second-class citizen. My body is none of your business. My body is not your battleground. It is not a cautionary tale. My body is not your canvas, nor your ad space. It is not here to make you feel better or worse about … Continue reading My Body Is Beautiful

Reflections on Life and Friendship

Life could be compared to a spider, and friendship should be the web. In this web, we could capture the people we love, our family, and friends. When I was younger (and that was some time ago), I used to list my friends: the closest ones, those I hadn’t seen in a while, school friends, friends who had moved away… Today, I no longer do that, but don’t ask me why. How many people have passed through my life? How many have I hurt with my intolerance, but also, how many have hurt me? I can’t count the tears I’ve … Continue reading Reflections on Life and Friendship

The Wisdom of the River and the Freedom of Love

Accept it, my child, the inevitable course of the river to the sea and bless the spring, even if the entire river is lost at its mouth. Allow love to also cry its fears. Thus is the wisdom of never damming life within ourselves… In each drop that flows down the stream, there is a story, a dream, a hope. The river, in its relentless journey, teaches us to accept the flow of life, to understand that every beginning, no matter how humble, carries within it the promise of a grand destiny. The spring, with its purity and strength, deserves … Continue reading The Wisdom of the River and the Freedom of Love

Farewell

Every day is a back-and-forth, a rhythmic dance of arrivals and departures. Life, like the train station, is a place of constant motion and repetition. Here, the platform is a stage where stories unfold, where people come to stay, their presence a comforting constant. Others, like fleeting shadows, will never go, their essence lingering in the air. There are those who yearn to return, drawn by the magnetic pull of memories and familiar faces. Some find solace in staying, their hearts anchored to the station’s pulse. Others come merely to observe, their eyes capturing moments like photographs, their hearts untouched … Continue reading Farewell

Io ti amo.

Non è che ti amo come si amano quelli che se lo ripetono ogni giorno, cento volte. Non ti amo come chi manda un messaggio in tarda sera, tra parole e nessuna spiegazione. Non ci riuscirei, io ti amo con gli occhi, col cuore, con gli abbracci, con tutto me stesso. Io ti amo da lontano, ti amo mentre ti guardo, con le frasi più stupide. Ti amo con il sorriso. Il mio è un amore più grande di tutti, tenendo conto che ogni giorno è più bello del giorno prima, ma meno di quello dopo. Il mio è un … Continue reading Io ti amo.

Writing for Wholeness

I write to forget, to forgive, to remember. Each word I pen down is a step away from the shadows of the past, a gentle release of the burdens I carry. In the quiet of my thoughts, I find solace, a sanctuary where memories are both a balm and a lesson. I write to feel, to steal a feeling, a moment from someone else, something I have never felt but yearn to experience. Through the ink, I live a thousand lives, each one a tapestry of emotions, woven with threads of joy, sorrow, love, and longing. It is in these … Continue reading Writing for Wholeness

Surrender and Poetry

Just as the sunflower surrenders to the sun, nurtured by its golden embrace; just as lips yield to a kiss, touching the heavens of the mouth and heart; or like a letter destined for awaited eyes, the boat surrenders to the ocean, letting itself be carried by the whims of the wind and tides. Unspoken words find their path and way to confess, to say that tomorrow is a certain risk worth investing in the sweetness of meeting, in the warmth of plans, in the sum of togetherness. Surrender is this: the ringing of bells, butterflies in the stomach, a … Continue reading Surrender and Poetry

Eternal Poetry

She navigated the depths of her own forgotten truths, those that her heart once inspired like perfumes in days gone by. She sought the salvation of others while losing herself in her own labyrinth. Her hands, always ready to dry others’ tears with sweet words, couldn’t contain the sea of sadness that drowned her. In her stories, she got lost, weaving plots where she saved heroes but saw herself as the villain. She became a poet, adorning herself with illusions, unable to distinguish the carnivals of her fantasies from the white days of reality. The false narratives of the past … Continue reading Eternal Poetry