Stockholm was cold.

I sat on a train and looked at the urban landscape slowly fade out of the window.

The snow had quickly disappeared in the city, but as soon as the train approached Vallentuna everything turned white. I don’t really know how come I decided to take a trip to that place. Memories are not so vivid, I just remember I wanted to see where you lived.

Winter in Sweden means that at 3pm it’s almost dark already.

I remember the sound of my shoes on the freezing snow, the sky turning pink and the silence all around me, with a bunch of dark houses in the distance, a few skinny trees and the shade of my warm breathe in the icy air.

I was all alone in the countryside. Sometimes I still wonder whether I was in the right place. Or is this whole thing just a trick of my memory?

I remember you, though. Perfectly.

Before the flood. A must watch.

You don’t need to speak good english to watch this.

You don’t even need to be interested in climate change: this documentary is made to awake your interest.

You need to watch it cause everyone of us is part of this problem, which is real and is already causing damage.

We are all in this together, and will be more and more as time goes by.

You should watch it cause til tomorrow it’s still free and honestly 1h30 is the minimum amount of time all of us should spend meditating about this.

Non c’è bisogno di conoscere bene l’inglese, e nemmeno di essere particolarmente interessati all’argomento per guardare questo documentario, è fatto apposta per accendere il nostro interesse.

Dovete guardarlo perché ognuno di noi è parte di questo problema, che è reale e sta già velocemente procurando danni.

Siamo tutti nella stessa barca, e con il passare del tempo saremo coinvolti sempre di più.

Dovete guardarlo perché fino a domani il documentario è gratuito in streaming e credo che un’ora e mezza sia il minimo – davvero il minimo – che ognuno di noi dovrebbe investire in termini di tempo su questo argomento.

Ci piaccia o no, prima o poi lo dovremo affrontare.


It’s hard to give a shape to certain feelings. I struggle to find the right words in the attempt to define them, but every word I try doesn’t fit somehow.

Something happened, and what in the past would have made me suffer now makes me smile. It’s a strange, beautiful feeling, similar to the imperceptible sound of two  puzzle pieces which finally connect the right way. Far from eachother, yet part of the picture.

The past feels so far away, it almost belongs to someone else. Where is that young girl, so scared of what people could think of her? Where are those lonely nights spent listening to sad music or dancing til late? Those long silent walks in the middle of the city noise, chewing questions with no answer.. such as: does pure love even exist without suffering?

I have so many thoughts hidden inside, so many floating words, but no one would listen right now, and for once I guess it’s just ok.

I’m happy and a smile will do just fine.


Sounds from the past.

It’s August and I am sitting on the grass, in Berlin. I am alone with my thoughts. I have a camera, but no one who takes pictures of me.

Memories come back in black and white, just like the pics I took back then.

Oranienburgerstraße is a long street and it takes me a long time to walk it all. My legs hurt. I am alone and you don’t know you are there with me, somewhere in the middle of that intricated net of busy streets.

I sit on a bench in a green park, there is no one around. I take a picture of myself, almost a reminder of the fact that I exist even if not a single soul is thinking of me. Or at least, so it seems.

Alexanderplatz is huge and full of people. I have seen this place before. How many times did you see these same things, walking out of the underground and looking up in the sky? You seem to inhabit this place even today, in spite of being far away, far far away in many ways.

How many thoughts do we hide to the world?  How many times do we live in someone else’s dreams?

About democracy.

Come on, are we REALLY considering Brexit and Donald Trump? What the hell is going on? How come we are apparently more ignorant, closed-minded and scared than ever, in spite of all the possibilities we’ve been given?


Today is a defeat, no matter the result.

Europe was a dream, how did it become a nightmare? I wish we could ask people “How do you want Europe to be?” instead of “Do you want to leave or remain?“. Cause the last one isn’t really a democratic choice, it sounds way more like a take-it-or-leave-it blackmail. Democracy is much about participation and involvement, it has nothing to do with the passive resignation I’ve been perceiving lately. It has nothing to do with this top down economics, with this pretentious science which has no soul, nor contact with reality. The referendum candy is just a dangerous illusion. Whatever happens today, I hope we will be able to take back our right to choose which kind of Europe (which kind of world) we want to live in.

szandri brexit


I remember a warm summer night.

We were sitting next to a pond, it was dark all around us, but enough to see eachoter. You took two beautiful wine glasses out of that strange basket you had brought with you, together with an expensive bottle of red wine.

That’s when I understood that evening out was meant to be a date.

I looked at my pink sneakers and felt so uncomfortable all of a sudden. A date!

Ixelles was full of life. The air was warm, the frites truck was not that far away and I could hear people chatting an laughing while waiting for their turn. At the same time in that dark corner we were kind of alone.

I remember you explaining how to properly taste wine. “How come we actually met in a beer and whiskey bar?“, I asked you. I tried to rotate the glass the way you were, and ended up spilling some drops on the grass. We laughed and talked. The wine was very good, so was the cheese. I though you were rad. I though it would have been cool to actually feel that, too.

It was a beautiful evening. I remember walking around with you, later on that night, ending up in a live music bar and drinking more wine. I don’t exactly remember how I actually got home.

Nothing happened after that.

Sometimes you still pop up in  my mind with your funny spanish accent though, whenever I try to properly smell wine in a rounded stem glass. I would love to say thank you, but I wouldn’t know how to, and you would think I’m a fool of course.

So that’s apparently how we become part of someone else’s life. In little things, tiny gestures, mostly without knowing it.