Objects are rare, places strange, meetings sudden, yet all are hunted by repetition.

Cos’altro sono, dopotutto, i nostri ricordi più luminosi se non raggi dorati, accuratamente custoditi come tesori in una scatola segreta?

Endless day, endless month. August seems to hold different concept of time than any other month...

The statue whispered the story to the night... of the lovers who slipped past.

The quiet escape. That is what summer has felt like for me since ever.

A reflection from Palazzo Visconti, Milano

What if we were the soulmates that met in the wrong time?

Vienna and the Ownership of a Life

Is this what is known as freedom?

She never said where she was from. Only that she missed the sound of heels in museum corridors.

I dare you to be—you

'To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all'

The love we didn’t express keeps pursuing us forever.

What if time unraveled like an old film reel, each moment bathed in soft light, each glance a scene worth remembering?

A little guide to heart-shaped chocolates of Milan and introspective thinking of gifting

'No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls.' — Ingmar Bergman

Who were you when you dreamt last night; and who are you now when you've waken up?

And I wonder if the emotion of falling in love with an idea of someone is as real as the one of actually being with them?