I had the chance to go back in September with my wonderful sister C. to Trentino, where (a strong) part of my DNA comes from. Just one day, time to eat properly, walk a bit around, say hi to the family, to the cows, and to mix dialects and get confused by speaking.

As a serial traveller I struggle to explain my concept of home. I call where I grew up “my parent’s home”, not mine. I called home the places where I lived and felt loved, but not necessarily all of them or the ones written on my documents.

This small town in Trentino, however, “has a hold on my heart that I could not break if I wanted too” (what a speech in that episode, if you get the quote). It’s always a pleasure to go, where people and scenery give me peace.

Peace.