Ich lebe durch Musik. Alles, was ich fühle, was ich bin, was ich sein will, ist meine Musik.

So while I sit here and talk myself down from a major panic attack, don't even ask…and also wait for a live stream of a concert, guess from now on I'll only be watching concerts on my computer, which is about the same as online sex…how about some words of wisdom? Lol as if, when was I ever wise? Let's face it, this is just distraction so I don't scratch my legs raw and bloody. Another don't ask type thing, freakin allergies and medication that doesn't really work. Or lets say works about as much as putting a bandaid on a crack in a concrete wall. I would literally kill for some relief so a simple bug bite wouldn't get so out of control. Wishful thinking.

In other news, I've actually seen a ''concert'' the other day. Lol. Concert. As close to one as I've been in almost two years anyways but in reality it was just a couple – duo, singing in a bar, which by some miracle hasn't thrown us out given that we didn't have about ten different pieces of paper proving we're not contaminated. It should be my mental state that they should be checking, you're far more likely to get stabbed for saying ''good morning'' to me, than you are to get infected by a glorofied cold. Point here is that it was a nice show non the less, and ironically people use ''touch starved'' all the time, I realised I'm concert starved, to a point where I'd be throwing underwear to this duo singing for about twenty of us in a dark hole of a bar. Well, would throw underwear to them if I was wearing any that is. 

I actually in theory wanted to share something with you guys. The fact that I've been struggling lately is nothing new, but there's a thing that someone said to me that sorta made things different, ''when a flower doesn't bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower''. And though that's nothing shocking, I just thought about it how I'm doing things the wrong way. I'm looking for flaws and what to fix on myself instead of fixing things around me. I can't expect to get better in an environment that's made me sick in the first place. I can't get better with people that are making me sick and brigning me down constantly, but the real issue is that getting away from them, and from it all, right now is just unrealistic. Maybe thats why I spend so much of my time lost in a drawing or in a fantasy book. Their worlds, their lives are just so much better, spending hours lost in a different universe…makes your own life bearable. 

Speaking of which, you guys want some more book reviews? That much I could manage, I think. Probably. Even if reading is always much better than writing. I recently got a ton of really good ones, haven't read them all yet because I was busy working on art projects but you know…at some point. I also tend to get stuck back on Hemingway. I don't know, he's just…he's something else. I tend to re read a story I've read a million times instead of moving on to something new. A friend recently introduced me to Jack Londons Call of the wild. I knew of London before of course, I just didn't really read much of his stuff myself. The ''funny'' part is, I was going through some of his titles online and it hit me like a big fucking brick wall, my dad used to read ''White fang'' to me when I was little. He would read me before bed every night. Classics mostly. Made me think about how much I just miss that ''us'' time. Or better yet made me think about how much I just miss my dad. You know how they say, sons are closer with their mothers and daughters are always ''daddys girls''. Yeah. Sometimes a girl just needs her dad, to either guide her, help her, or beat someone up for her. And I miss mine, so much time was stolen from us and it's just…it's not fair. 

But lets not go there right now or else this will turn into another sob story which I don't want. Instead I'll share a collection of CD/VINYL/DVDs of one of my biggest fever dreams…

People close to me know that my obsession with this man is huge. Big crush. Just recently the CD on the right upper side came in the mail, I'm not going to lie if I tell you that I sobbed for good 20 minutes because it's signed. Lol. Crazy fan girl I know. Part of me is shallow, the man is probably one of the most beautiful human beings I ever saw but that aside he's a musical prodigy and a genius. I mean yes, I've always been a metal child, no doubt, but actually I really love classical music. Bach is one of my absolute favourites and I love to listen to him in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. Wait! I actually mean Johann Sebastian Bach the German composer, not the pretty blond Skid Row singer, him I'd rather spend time differently in the middle of the night tbh. Just saying. 

Another one of my favourites is the very same musical genius that Garrett portrays in the ''Devils Violinist'', Niccolo Paganini. Fun fact, I was in Vienna when this movie was shot, like literally on the movie set, but missed David for about an hour. I don't know what would happen if he would suddenly appear in front of me to be honest. I mean the whole ''shrieking fan girl''? Probably not, I'd probably be frozen to the spot and mumble something stupid, just to make an idiot out of myself. Yep sounds about right, just like me. Or maybe my last (too erotic to describe here) dream in which he was the main star in would play in my head and it would be impossible for me to even think. 

Point here, David is not an actor but there couldn't be anyone else playing Paganini because nobody comes close to their genius talent. But they differ in nature lol, David is a good boy, actually my friends constantly tease me we could never work together because I'd corrupt him. Lol. As if. But really he's a good boy while Paganini was probably the first ''rock star'' and worse than all of them combined. Booze, drugs, women…you know the works. He probably wasn't as handsome as David though, who has women falling at his feet in this movie. Not that I don't understand. I've seen the movie ''a few'' times and still have a hard time focusing on it. His face is awfuly distracting, them gorgeous eyes one gets lost in, in combination with long lashes, and then that heart stopping smile. OH.MY.GOD. Please do unspeakable things to me, anything you want, anywhere, anytime. Honest to god I think I'd go into cardiac arrest if he was standing in front of me. Sigh. That story of when I met Mick Jagger would repeat itself. I can be a complete idiot so help me jesus. I was hyperventilating the entire concert and he was at a safe distance, on stage. And when he smiled I probably came in my panties, yes I was wearing some on that show, probably just in case I'd want to throw them on stage. Lol. 

Now to end this feverish post before it gets out of control and I need another cold shower, in the spirit of sharing things I love instead of so much darkness, here's my latest drawing (a better photo with close ups will be posted on IG so make sure you check back), I am ridiculously proud of it and I spent over a month working on it. It's Oscar Isaac as Poe Dameron in Star Wars. It's a geek life for me you guys, but also, come on, how freakin handsome is he?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've been rambling because it's Davids live stream concert I'm waiting for. And if you hear screaming, sighing or hysteric crying that's just me. I'm fine don't worry, just probably having an outer body experience as a result of his gift and his ridiculously handsome face. An angel, I swear. Sigh. 

E come l'aria mi respirerai il giorno che ti nasconderò dentro frasi che non sentirai.

So I took the previous post about taking a break down. Lets try this again. Maybe not a break but just, posting when I feel like it. No pressure to post on certain days, I know I know, I can hear my media and marketing teacher pull her hair out ''consistent posting is what brings you a following and helps you reach a certain audience''. Sure. I know. But then again I'm not reaching any audiences or anything, I'm just writing for me. 

A friend reminded me about a quote my favourite author of all time said ''write hard and clear about what hurts''. These are the brilliant words of a mister Ernest Hemingway. Yeah, I may love my fantasy world, romantic books about vampires and other mythical creatures but there never was and never will be another author like Hemingway, or another book like ''A farewell to arms''. Which reminds me to look online for a fancy, pretty, hardcover copy of it. Like a special edition or something.  I have 2 paperbacks but they have been dragged around everywhere and read so many times that their condtition is somehow…well questionable. It just gives me a weird sense of comfort in moments of anxiety.  I know the book will always love me and the rain won't make any difference. 

In that spirit, I'll write hard and clear about what hurts, and also what doesn't, or maybe about the fact that Jim Morrison was right all along and people ARE strange. Speaking of which, can hardly believe he's been gone for 50 years. I remember sneaking dads records when I was a little girl and admiring the pretty curly haired singer, of course then I didn't know what a hot mess he was. Dad caught me once telling me ''you know what your problem is?'' and while I contemplate about a shit ton of things that were my problem at the time, including a pretty rockstar living just down the street from us, he says to me ''Jims hot, sexy and dead so forget about it''. Hah. As if I could do anything but forget it, even if he was live to be honest. 

Jim also said that he might have given himself to us in pieces but it was still the best of him. He was right there too, it may be bits and pieces but those bits and pieces can still be pretty amazing. So I think that's what I need to do with this blog, bits and pieces, memories, things that matter to me, things that are important, love, art, happy things. And also unhappy things because, without sadness we'd not know happiness. I know that's rich coming from me, and I know I haven't felt happiness in years but that's how in theory it should be. 

So for starters, I keep repeating things are hard, and they are. But there are moments in between worth keeping. Like this morning, I freakin despise zoom, and I hate digital world, and I hate seeing some friends only on a screen, but that can't be helped, they live in another country, another continent, some possibly on another planet, or maybe I do but that's besides the point. I talked to a friend on video chat this morning, after we went through the pleasantries about how were doing (fucking terrible the both of us) and mandatory mocking about who has the most chipped nail polish or more split ends, another friend of his joins me. He's staying with us for a while, call it a vacation, and actually ''friend'' is putting it mildly, we have some history. So the friend on the other side of the screen asks me what I've been up to these days, to which I proudly tell him that I almost finished 2 A3 drawings and I'm damn proud of the both of them (shut up ok this is huge for me between crying, break downs and never finishing anything I start). Cue in his ''aww you're such a good girl'' comment, and the man next to me choking on water. Yeah, it makes one confused as to what the hell is going on. Well bless his poor innocent soul not knowing that the man choking next to me was choking me few hours ago saying those exact words to me ''you're such a good girl''. Cue in both of us blushing like crazy, looking anywhere but each other. Don't think the person on the other side of the world – screen didn't realise quickly going ''well that's gross, also bad girl''. Lol. Made me crave for one of our crazy drunken nights spilling secrets on someone's rooftop. Soon. I hope. 

I think this hope is what's also killing me, hoping for a better tomorrow, hoping for people to change, hoping for life to change. In theory you're supposed to be the change, and in theory you're supposed to change what you don't like, but in a world this crazy that's all but impossible. And I think expectations are killing me. Every flower blooms at some point, some are just a little late. Why can't we understand that? Why can't we accept that people are different, take different paths in life, care and dream about different things? And I think these accusations and people talking is what's killing me. I never really cared much, I live my own life, it's my problem, and I wish people wouldn't stick their nose into it so much but lately it's pushing all my buttons ''when are you getting married? How about children? How about your career? Oh, you're just an artist? Oh is that what you're wearing? Oh you like this and that? Isn't that too much make up?'' blah blah blah. When I take a step back and have time to think I can say ''parla la gente purtroppo, parla non sa di che cazzo parla'' but really it drives me crazy. When did we reduce human beings to labels? Names? Numbers? God. Basta. There is a song by a local band I love with the title ''stop the earth I'm getting off'' and shit they are right. If you find a way to let me off, I'm all ears. And don't suggest NASA and the Mars project. Already tried that. 

I was just sitting here listening to an very emotional song, Italian, on replay. It's made me think about so many things, the hope above among others. It's amazing how a song can stirr up emotions isn't it? I keep telling people if their music makes them feel nothing, they're listening to the wrong kinda music. This particular song makes me feel happiness, sadness, love, loss, lust, devotion, attraction. It makes me feel the soft warm salty ocean breeze, the smell of the sea, it makes me feel those first kiss emotions, it makes me feel that wild attraction when you just can't breathe without the other person. It feels like that first ray of sunshine that warms your skin after a long gray winter. It feels like that first sip of coffee in the morning, or a refreshing rain shower in the summer heat. It feels like that sparkle in someone's eyes when they smile. It feels like a fresh coat of bright red lipstick after a firey make out session in a public restroom and like a racing heartbeat when you're afraid to be caught.  It makes me feel so much and nothing at all. A storm of emotions or complete peace at once. 

Maybe I should be a writer, pack all my poetic bullshit in a book and torture readers all over the world with my ramblings. Why stick to one type of art right? And honest to god if I start with family stories…well we go from comedy to tragedy to horror so I don't even need to pick a genre.  Maybe that would help me, maybe writing it all done would help me stop storing all that anger and stop me from it spilling over (usually in a very explosive way) or drowning in it. 

See point here is I'm trying, like so freakin hard to keep it together but like Marvel taught us, the real enemies aren't Thanos, or Ultron or whatever the fuck cosmic animal you can think of, the real enemy is in your head, it's mental illness, it's unprocessed crap we each go trhough, pack it up to deal another time but we never really do. That's the enemy. That's the elephant in the room. That's what's killing you. I am trying so hard to at least pretend I have it together, to have some kinda control with anything that has to do with my life. Well spoiler alert. I don't. Things keep happening with zero control no matter what I do. No matter how hard I try. I'm trying not to be bitter about it, not to be angry about it but truth is I'm so fucking angry all the time at everything, myself, the world, people in my life, the politics, people around me, angry at everything. I'm trying to brush it off with ''well shit things happen for a reason but believe me that only works so long. 

This is another thing that's driving me crazy, what if there's no real reason why bad or good things happen? What if the universe is just a cruel bitch that plays with us all the time? What was that thing that ABBA used to sing ''the gods may throw the dice, ther minds as cold as ice'', no I don't listen to ABBA but I do love Mamma mia. It always feels like there's a fucking Mjolnir sitting on your chest and you can't breathe, always. There's breaks in between, when the heaviness lifts and the light peaks through the cracks, a moment when you finally swim to the shore, a moment when you stop fucking drowning and you get a false hope, hope that things will get better after all. This is the moment I get my shit together and things improve. And maybe you do. I give you that, maybe you get better, but you know what's the real issue? Mjolnir comes flying back, taking you down with it each time. 

Life happens, like on a silver screen, things roll and you roll with them, you're born, you suffer, you're happy, you're sad, most of all you're alive and you try to give your little contribution to the society and the world. Mostly insignificant anyways, lets face it, the world can't really be changed, improved yeah, changed? No. Anyways you may be lucky, you may find love, love like magic and then you fucking die. Your family remembers you for a while, and that's it. Maybe the purpose isn't being remembered though, maybe the purpose isn't slaving away but living and causing as little damage as possible. It's no longer about change anyways, it's no longer about doing something amazing, it's survival and as little harm as possible. 

Here's the point, I'm trying so fucking hard to get my shit together, and I'm trying so hard to reach that point when the Mjolnir lifts but I wonder what is even the fucking point anymore? Things always reset to it's starting point in the end, you can't escape them. I guess you can only hope the little moments of clarity and happiness are worth it. 

Alright that might be enough depression for one post. I feel darkness literally seeping from my fingers to your screens. I'm sorry. Put on some happy music and I hope it brings up some happy memories. 

Cheers guys, here's to another week on this alien planet, may it be as painless as possible. 

In nome del padre, del figlio, spirito santo.

I take it you noticed by the Italian titles lately how badly I miss Italy? The no Milano concerts, no daily trips, no crossing the border just for Aperol and quick shopping is literally killing me. Nevermind a proper vacation. Been too long. Might also be my obsession with a certain Italian band as well, loved them from the second I heard them play in the streets of Rome tbh (them and about 10 others, it's amazing how much live music and how much talent there is). But I love them even more now. Some of their songs…they are just, you know, perfect. Some songs just feel different, like ''Coraline''. That one hits stronger. You know the lines ''E Coraline piange, Coraline ha l'ansia, Coraline vuole il mare ma ha paura dell'acqua, e forse il mare e dentro di lei''. That is different. That is not just a song, that is freakin poetry on a higher level.  And the song from the title In nome del padre? I think every artist (and non artist) understands that one. 

So trying to cut on the whining and complaining I suppose I'll only post when I'll have something to say…something that isn't ''I get dressed up and put on makeup these days for the work men and the mail man'' in my defense the mail man loved my makeup the other day, told me I look beautiful. I don't know if this is some sort of kiss ass after I shredded them a couple of times for their lousy services but it sure was nice to hear for a change. I mean usually it's ''you look dumb'', ''that's too much eyeliner'', ''going to a funeral?'' etc. Being called beautiful by a stranger is a rare event so let me enjoy it.

I've been feeling just horrible this entire month, I mean I feel awful all the freakin time, there's always something, there's always something going on, something dragging me down, but I think this month is really topping that whole top ten worst months chart. I imagine this is how it feels to be in a tornado, right in the middle of it, the world is spinning out of control around you and all you get to do is watch it. Then it suddenly stops, everything falls down in a violent matter and just when you think you can take a little breath, take it a bit easier, start picking up the pieces to try and rebuild your life, well think again, the world starts spinning all over again and you're left dazed, confused and with no sense of direction or purpose. And the worst part? There is nothing you can do to stop it, nothing to do that will stop this wild rollercoaster. Is this making sense to you? I suppose not. Lets move on to the point of this post…

This weekend was what is or well, was, my favourite summer event. The ''museum summer night'', it's not that much the fact that all muesums are free on the summer night event, because lets face it I spend more time at the museums than I do at home meaning I buy tickets all the time, it's the fact that it's a nightly visit. I love museums at night, they get this special eerie vibe. Usually that vibe is completely fucked up by screeching kids though. Have I told you lately how badly I can't stand human children? If not here it is now. Jesus fucking christ are they annoying. And I can't stand these upper class parents that dress like they're going to the opera, dragging their dumb offspring to museums on the one night when it's free, letting them run around foaming at the mouth, screaming like wild animals. Oh my god. It's a museum not a fucking playground. It's a cultural establishment, so how about showing some culture too? Don't pretend you can't pay for tickets in those Calvin Klein jeans...

Point here is though that it was a different experience all together last night because there were no screaming kids, and almost zero people all together, I suspect that's because there was a wine tasting thing going on in town where there were booths with different wines all over all main streets, cool but not my thing, I don't really like wine, and if these high class in ties people knew that I like cheap strawberry wine most, they'd probably die of heart failure on the spot. Well a nice sweeter white wine with an ocean view is always welcome but you know that's not always possible. There's an on going joke I have with my family about red wine and spaghetti with meat balls, I hate both, actually vegetarian too, but if a handsome Italian boy ( I'm looking at you Damiano David ) bought those for me in a ''trattoria'' with red and white checkered table cloths, overlooking the Pantheon I'd enjoy both (and him too later). Not even joking. God someone please for the love of everything holy take me to Italy before I lose my fucking mind. I kinda think I already did tbh but before it gets even worse. 

Alright so no people last night made it more possible to spend more time inside watching the artifacts, some new that I haven't yet seen, but mostly things I know and love. I guess what I love most about these things is that every item has a story. I mean obviously, but we are somehow detached. Oh okay this is a necklace that was found in some grave, in the Roman era…okay. But think about it. Some woman wore this, maybe she was gifted this necklace on a special occassion, maybe someone that loved her gave it to her. A family member, a friend, a lover. Was it a happy love story? Did she die young? Did they live happy ever after?  My 1/4 of Italian blood is strong, I'm a hopless romantic yes. Which brings us to what I got lost in last night…

History of my hometown is super rich. Prehistoric artifacts, celtic settlements, important Roman highway and some sort of connection point, and the most important family of the middle ages. The ''counts''. The entire story of the counts (I swear I listen to too much Steel Panther I keep wanting to write cunts lol, excuse me if that happens by mistake) is amazing, they were an amazing powerful family, rich, smart and influential. I can't help but constantly wonder what would happen if they'd survive up till now. I have no problem saying that then this place would be the center of Europe. Without a doubt. My favourite story connected to this family though is a story about Friderik and Veronika. It's your typical Romeo and Juliet situation, only you know they weren't children and while Romeo and Juliet are a legend which nobody knows if it's really true, Friderik and Veronika are 100% real. 

I was wandering the wing of the museum basically alone last night, in between remains of the count family, unfortunally mostly reproductions because so much was lost and stolen, and couldn't shake the eerie feeling. These two actually walked these hallways once (museum is obviously in their castle), they maybe met in secret after dark on the castle grounds, hiding from curious eyes. Maybe they enjoyed being young and in love, running around in a warm summer rain shower like we do. They weren't that different after all were they?

You know how the story goes right? Friderik was the eldest son of a very powerful count Herman ll., he was spreading his influence and empire with wars and diplomacy, arranged marriages and such, at the height of their power they owned over 100 castles all over Europe. Of course in turn Friderik was set to marry an important lady from a high class family, Elizabeth, who came from the richest and most influential family of counts from Croatia. Marriage was little but a business deal at the time. With this wedding Herman entrusted his son land to manage in Slavonia and Croatia as well as at home, they had two children together as well, Friderik ll., who died as a child and Ulrik who was the father of Ulrik ll., unfortunally the last count with who the family died with. 

The fact that this marriage was a business deal obviously couldn't mean happiness. It could I suppose, but what are the odds that you find yourself falling in love with the one you were set up with. The last eight years of marriage they didn't even live together. Here is where the romantic, epic, love story comes in, Friderik met Veronika, they call it an affair because they met before his wife died, which fueled the fire of rumors that it was Friderik himself who murdered his wife Elizabeth so he could be with Veronika. I sincerely doubt that because historical facts show that those who started the rumors were those that were opposed to the counts politics. I think it was an unfortunate or fortunate for Friderik event. Her death allowed him to marry his actual true love Veronika. 

This is such a passionate story, with such a tragic end. My god. The heart ache. Friderik married Veronika somewhere around 1424 and they moved to the castle that he had build just for her. A mans home is his castle right? Only in this case a literal castle. Of course this marriage was an issue for his monster of a father, because she was not up to his standards, you know, not rich, not important enough, not high class enough. Friderik smeared the family name by marrying her and so on and Herman had other plans with his son. It was the pressure and threaths from his father that had Friderik ask Venice for an asylum based on being threathened with death. Venice senate debated on the matter but refused the application. Assholes just saying. It was actually a Hungarian asshole Sigismund who lured Friderik to his castle after this catastrophic blow of being turned down by the Venetian senate and had him returned to his furious and if you ask me severely unstable father. Herman in an attempt to ''fix'' what Friderik ''broke'' had his son locked up in a tower and had the castle he build for Veronika torn down as if to completely erase her existance. 

Herman was looking for Veronika during his sons imprisonment, she was hiding literally out in the wild for a while, like an animal in a cave. Can you imagine that? The fear and defeat she had to feel in those moments? And heart break too. Friderik IX. was the one who hid her in his castle but unfortunally Herman found her. She was brought to the court where she stood trial because he accused her of witchcraft, saying she poisoned his son and forced him with some dark magic to marry her. I guess the psycho was right with something, love is the closest thing to magic isn't it? Well Veronika had a great defender so she was found not guilty but you can imagine that wasn't enough for Herman so he had her locked up as well and later murdered by having her drowned in a bath tub. 

Can you imagine the pain that Friderik felt when he learned what happened to the love of his life? I bet it was like having his heart ripped out. She was hunted, accused of being a witch and drowned all while he was locked up and couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't see her, couldn't say goodbye. And their only real sin was falling in love. There was never a doubt he loved her, possibly the whole passionate, romantic, all consuming kinda love. History tells us it's that way. An epic love story, there was never a single doubt that Friderik absolutely adored Veronika, first of because he rebelled against his dad for her, an extremelly powerful man that held the reins to everything and not only that but he was the head of the entire dynasty. He had the castle that they lived in that his dad had demolished rebuild, he had her body excavated and buried in another location some years after her death, in order to be buried with her some day. Legend says that in those times it was custom to have different body parts buried in different places, head in one place, body in another. Legend says that Friderik's heart was buried with Veronika after he died because the custom didn't allow his body to be with her since the family has designated burial space where she couldn't be buried at. How freakin tragic. His heart with the woman he loved. God tear my heart out and put it in a blender, it would hurt less. I understand it metaphorically though, I felt my heart ripped out and buried with people I love too. 

Another thing speaking of the fact that this was undying love was the fact that he had funds donated to keep an eternal light burning, and to have another wing of a church and a new altar build to held masses for them and mostly for her. It's unclear today btw where she is buried, many locations have been rumored and researched but her body is yet to be found. I get so mad how their story is so used here, they use it to promote just about everything, putting their name and their tragic story everywhere, but they don't have the decency to put together a proper search team, get the funds to find Veronika and bury her with him, to give them their, eternal rest together, to bring them peace they deserve. 

Herman was forced to release Friderik after his eldest brother died btw, so he had to live with his father knowing what he did and dealing with every other thing that monster threw under his feet. Sometimes one wonders if it wasn't better if he'd kill them both together. I think I'd prefer that if I was in Friderik's shoes. There's a famous rock in the remains of the castle they lived in, it's famous because they say it holds the mark of Veronika today. Legend says that on their wedding night, Veronika sat on that very rock when Friderik kissed her and it was their hot, passionate love that literally melted the rock. 

My mind wandered some place else last night, thinking about them, thinking about such strong connection and actually understanding because I had that kinda love and I let it slip away. What is it that makes us so crazy? So stupid? Friderik put everything on the line to be with the woman he loved, why can't we do the same? Why can't we take a risk and fight for the person we love? Why do we let that special someone get away, never knowing what could it be like to have them by your side forever. Yeah, forever. I believe in that still. I believe in true love, I believe in that all consuming passion, and being best friends, and not being able to breathe without each other. I need to believe that because that's the only thing making sense in this life to me. The only thing that is close to magic, the only thing worth living and fighting for. If you don't date to marry and stay together, you date to break up. That's all there is to it. I need to believe that love still exists. That love is real. Because if it's not, then what do we have left? 

''What do you got if you aint got love? Whatever you got it just aint enough, you're walkin' the road but you're goin' nowhere, you're tryin' to find your way home, but there's no one there. Who do you hold, in the dark of night? You wanna give up, but it's worth the fight, you have all the things, that you've been dreamin' of, if you ain't got love it's all just keepin score, if you ain't got love, what the hell we doing it for?''.

Now before I depress you to no end, enjoy these pictures instead.

Cheers guys, here's to another week of hell, both metaphorical and literal (summer is back in southern Europe and we have no AC due to house renovations…sigh). 

Perché la vita senza te non può essere perfetta.

I got a little bit lazy with these blog updates. Why? Not finding inspiration aside, I love writing about books, concerts, albums and there haven't been many of those in my life lately. Well there hasn't been much of anything lately and the constant rain depressed me even more. But the skies are clear, weather summerish, I'm wearing matching underwear, yes that's important news because not only did I bother to put on underwear but also it's matching. Might be an endless ammount of workmen in our house / street that basically forced me to start wearing clothes and actually brush my hair before I give someone a heart attack. Saying this after I already showed three of them too much. I'm sorry if I just don't expect strangers in my kitchen at 7 am when I'm getting some water. Sigh. Going to be an interesting couple of weeks, especially if you consider that they incapacitated my AC, during the summer, in the South. Okay cool, we're just all going to die obviously. 

In other news, with all the cancellations of concerts, nobody even look at me or even consider breathing my way next Saturday. June 12th was supposed to be the weekend in Croatia when I get to chill at the cat cafe and see Steel Panther which is something I've been wishing and wanting for years. It's cancelled of fucking course and there are hardly words to describe my anger and disappointment. It's funny I posted a picture of the concert poster in January saying ''korona if you fuck this up for me I'm burning down this entire country'' well…WELL! And I'm not even going to say ''MCR'' because that one just makes me want to scream. Let's just pray there's some hope left for GN'R. I mean it's next year but, lol…

Should I even bother with vacation? Berlin was in the plans this year, like for real, had a hotel booked and all. It would be a real vacation, seeing my fave city (or used to be fave) after what 12 or 13 years? Something like that but that's impossible now too and also I lost all will and desire to even step foot into Germany. I guess in a way I should thank korona, saved me from that disappointment. The whole why and how is a long story but to make it short let's just say I realised I was being stupid and in love with an illusion that no longer exists. Or maybe I was seeing things through heart shaped glasses.

Any future (if ever) travels will be focused on what I really love which is Italy (obviously of course other places I aint ever seen too). I'm sorry but there is nothing and no place like Italy. I think I had to grow up and realise that things aren't as I thought, Berlin used to be cool, but tastes change, people change,…Italy on the other hand was a constant true love for me. I love Milano so much. I love Tuscany so much. Florence amore mio. Rome? Out of this world. Rome is like…like the entire city is an art museum. And there's nothing I love more, art museums, classical art the one I love most, the whole city breathes this romantic vibe. I don't know how to explain it but if I put it into art Berlin is the darkest cold Picasso, all sharp lines and discipline and Rome is the softest, beautiful and playful portrait, something like The birth of Venus. Am I making sense? Not really, I know. You should try walking the streets of Rome in that golden hour time frame, holding hands with someone you love, just after a refreshing summer rain shower when all of the streets glisten like diamonds and the air is just clear and fresh but still warm and there are musicians on every street corner and the city is alive with life and love. Sigh. I don't even know what I miss most, all of this. 

I've been reading this article about eleven best cities to visit in Italy. I realised I crossed them all off my list already. Only ''to do'' city for me is Pisa. I don't know how it's possible I haven't been there yet when I've done them all already including all of Sicily. And each time I fell in love a little bit more.  I fell in love with the charming small cities, I fell in love with the coast lines, I fell in love with the way they live, with the people, with the weather, with the food, with the history, with the art. Everything really. There aint no place like Italy on this planet. I've been to a lot of places and only Italy has my whole heart. Thinking back, all my best and all my favourite memories are in Italy. People I love. Art I love. Favourite concerts. All brings us back to Italy somehow. 

I honestly can't even put into words how thankful I am that I got to see Venice last year after wishing and dreaming for so long. It was a different experience all together because they were everything I hoped for, dreamed about and expected to see. Pure perfection. And I also can't put it into words how much I miss it all. How much I miss jumping in the car driving to the border just to get a proper coffee and Aperol that only Italians know how to do right. How much I miss concerts in Milano and just Milano in general. How much I miss the Italian sea side, the gorgeous blue skies and crystal clear water. How much I miss the sunsets, the smell of salty air, the weird Italian trees, the pretty hill side country and the flat, straight, ''boring'' Calabria. I even miss the unbearable July heat and the ridiculously expensive coke on the Sienna main square. I miss the pizza and the pasta and gelato and the constant never ending Italian chatter. I miss the laughter and the smell of cooking when you walk down those cute narrow steets where neighbors yell to each other from one balcony to another. 

But I'm not going to make this post depressing again. Everything in my life already is completely fucked up so I don't need to make it worse with depressing blog posts. Instead I chose like 200 pictures which I narrowed down (that was fucking difficult), some of my favourite memories, sharing below, so hope y'all enjoy them as much as I do, remembering the better days and the easier life…

Enjoy the weekend you guys, I'll be drowning my sorrows in beer at a local beer festival, assuming I get in. Cheers.