The real Devil’s Bridge

Back in June I wrote an essay about my first 6 months spent in glory 2016. I wrote about my journeys, physical and emotional ones, from winter to early summer, and this summer -let me tell you- has been quite a ride too, that I’ll write down soon (very soon, promise).

One of the best moments was when I rented a car and drove with two old friends somewhere in Germany, at the border with Poland, to see a bridge. Now, it may sounds strange that three individuals go to see a bridge, none of them super particularly interested -nor expert- in architecture. But believe me, this daily trip to a random town was special. That small town has a park, in it there’s one of the weirdest bridges ever built.

Its German name is Rakotzbrücke.

What makes people want to go there is its reflection, more than its construction. The bridge can create a perfect circle when it is reflected in the waters beneath it, and believe me, it’s magic to look at. Yes, it’s an illusion, I am aware of it, but having to walk around made me appreciate the moment so much, and it wasn’t an illusion, it was a connection.

Was it the Devil’s outcome, then?


Everybody is wondering and wandering in life. Us three wandered around the park, and wondered. I kinda feel like we all three walked that bridge, somehow. Three completely different stories, yet all poignant. Being there together was such an unique moment to share, and I humbly felt happy to rekindle our friendship with that road trip. Devil’s trick, for sure.


From behind


One side

Of course, that bridge was too yummy to not filter it




Special thanks to…




And by the way… “OH MY GOD this is my favourite song ever!” 🙂


Canal Saint-Martin, Paris

Mais oui Paris! Mais oui Canal Saint-Martin! Un de meilleur et unique lieu unique de Paris, j’ai laissé mon coeur dans le canal là.

As a convinced Kreuzbergerin I love open spaces with a quiet canal where to hang out in peace with a bunch of peeps, sipping a beer and soaking in sun and conversations. It is the ideal place for a spontaneous picnic too!

peeps along canal

Canal Saint-Martin is an exclusive place to find a piece of Berlin vibes in Paris, plus a bit of extravagant chich style in the area surrounding, full of graffitis, cool restaurants, bars and stunning ‘800s-styled buildings.

What a difference makes a place like this. As Berlin-centred I think of Kreuzberg, but now that I think more of it, if you are a Londoner you can relate there with Regent’s Canal in Camden or the lovely Angel area. It is indeed a good living, especially on a sunny day.

Talking about geography, you can easily find this area between Republique and the beginning of La Villette. It’s a super easy walk from train station Gare de l’Est and it’s beyond well connected.


Why not visiting the next time you are in time?

… Just don’t forget to invite me, I’ll bring some red whine, cheese and crackers with me.

Please click here to see more pics:



January, 1st 2014


2014’s Eve had almost everything I would want to carry along this year of personal changes I feel already inside me. It started with fireworks – the popular, transitory grandeur in our darkness – and some drinks in company..


There was a smile of a true friend, a good morning, a stroll along cemeteries of fun from the past night…

And then, there was the time to feed the soul with art.




Outside everything was quiet, like a fresh Sunday morning indeed.


Another museum tries to battle my melancholic state of mind.. It’s the view of a kid pretending to write notes about Modern Art that dropped me back to reality, again with a smile.


A moment, just a glimpse to get lost in the faces on the walls. Corridors became an arena of good feelings and memories of my studies..




Empty stairs anticipate my next travel; it will be long, silent, sometimes scary but full of thoughts and, hopefully, ideas to develop and love to nourish.


During my way back, tiredness was kicking hard, so was my need to create. It was on one side of the road, in a cold, cold German night that I saw countless stars. I remembered my father, who once taught me all the constellations, and it was a pretty lovely view, moreover memory. Around me, in the parking area, other lonely souls like mine were resting a bit, enjoying some fresh -freezing- air. Cold helps to collect the threads of your mind, to get conclusions.

So this is mine:

January, 1st 2014 was a day to remember. I have lots of new ideas and projects and I can’t wait to show something here. I am alive, breathing, smiling and I just keep walking. You’ll find me at your side whenever you want to look in that direction.

Arrivederci amore, ciao

I don’t remember the first time I watched “La stanza del figlio”, an Italian movie by director Nanni Moretti.

It’s a touching story about loss, fatherhood, conciliation and, maybe, hope. It’s quite a different story than the others Nanni wrote, directed and produced; more narrative, less a neurotic-flux-of-thoughts. Slightly, dangerously at times, not autistic like the others. There is a tangible pace of sorrow in there and it hits you so much to make you uncomfortable.

Is there a way to understand a loss? Personally, I still don’t know. In the movie it seems there is a turning point to first compensate, then understand it when at the end Nanni / the Father gives a car ride to his dead son’s girlfriend and her new ‘friend’. In that occasion, the car should have stopped at the certain known and agreed point, just it doesn’t. To proceed together, to face the after, I saw it as a shy hope for the future of that family.

Four in a car, they start singing an old song: the song talks about a goodbye between two lovers, where the woman is strong and confident that it’s over and she will be fine after all. There is a genuine spontaneity in the singing together and enjoying the moment despite everything. I recall this behaviour an important aspect of being Italian. Somewhere, somehow, Italians have always hope.

Lyrics are pretty strong: a persistent use of metaphors from the nature like clouds and water, showing a constant change in feelings as in the outside; a bitter sense of detachment; a sad, but firm, awareness the past is past, the new has already come. My favourite passage is when she sings:

E quando andrò devi sorridermi se puoi, non sarà facile ma sai, si muore un po’ per poter vivere.”

(And when I leave you must smile at me if you can, it won’t be easy but, you know, you must die a little bit inside to be able to live)

Clever lyrics. I’ve made them mine, quoting them when convenient.

Once I quoted the movie with a nice guy I had met before, but never spoken in depth. I was fascinated by his exotic and religious name, moreover by his story. Complicity of a home party and alcohol, we started chatting and never stopped since then. We found a common ground in the love for old movies.

That night caught ourselves laughing out loud and sharing secrets, tips and stories: when we both confessed the love for ‘La stanza del figlio’ we started singing the song together, at 3 am in a silent dormitory. It was a little nice moment, somehow similar to the movie scene in the car for its spontaneity, that I’ll enshrine in my heart.

The song’s name is ‘Insieme a te non ci sto‘ più by Caterina Caselli and if you’ll ever read this post: much love to you, Jesus (the one w/o the cross, I mean).