I’ve lived with you only two weeks, and I must say we didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
Heck, that is a big understatement; I was the intruder, the nuisance, the one violating your house.
You disliked me so badly that even when I tried to befriend you by feeding you, you waited until I wasn’t looking to eat. More »

«Subjugation of State to Church»

Maybe it’s the British weather, or spending so much time with non-Catholics, but I personally think the independence of State and Church (Article 7 of the Italian Constitution) to be somehow reciprocal: the Republic does not pass laws on mitre height and the Church does not declare anathema on our public transportation system. More »

As I have written in the past, everybody here is always annoying you about having a good CV, which means you’re supposed to work when you’re not in the lab or something…

To work in the UK you need something called National Insurance Number (its friends call it NIN), that is Her Majesty equivalent of our Italian codice fiscale.
This is my personal experience as an Italian student who asked for one just in case he’ll one day find that special someone who pays you in exchange for something. More »

«Have you ever been in love? But, I mean, how do you get that you’re in love, the first time? More »

«a fine giugno maturità e aperitivo a Monti.»
I Cani – Hipsteria

Well, it’s done. I went through that modern rite of passage (ah!, “modern”) they call Maturità (Italian High School finals).
I survived the written examination in a corridor, midday sun shining on your face, and the 5-minutes-per-subject oral examination.
But, most importantly, I survived all the cliché they threw at me (us) during this senior year. More »

I.

It rains
you are not Ermione
no bayberries
I, you, the rain
one drop on the cheek
kiss. More »

(«At last, he rewrote the intro!»)

You might be here by chance, but you probably know me and I gave you the link in some cunning way («Please visit my website, please!»).
I’ll make this short: sometimes I write stuff and put it here, the older that is, the more ashamed I am someone might actually read it. I don’t remove anything because one cannot simply delete things, it isn’t nice.
If you want to know who I am (in form of myth and hagiography) there’s a page for that too, just like there’s a page to write me.

What are you still doing here? Go!

«Τί γάρ; Πᾶς ἔρως ὁ ἔρως;»
«Πάνυ γε»
This would say Socrates if he wanted to start an article on the topic we’ll consider.
Is every love love? More »