Thoughts about Paris…

I know that most of the people think of Paris as a very romantic capital.

A kind of “love nest” out of time, were persons look in each others eyes… and fell deeply in love.

Well. Sounds good. But reality is very different. Paris is a very cold city. People like me that goes living in the city center find themselves strangly … alone.

It is not a place for falling in love, or for looking for a person to fall in love with and build a future together.

It is a European capital that stands for its productive power. Work is the keyword. And the key to Paris differents worlds as well. Everything depends on how much you earn, on what kind of job you’re doing. The type of job qualify and define you as person.

Talking about me…. as i do not work as “a very well know artist”… it’s like i count nothing and so i am not an artist.

What i create seems to be meaningless in a Parisian’s eyes.

Target is: first, be famous.

But that sound crazy to me. Art should not be a slave of social musts. Art is a weapon again ignorance, againts the rules (sometimes wrong) of the common sense.

Fame should not be the mainstay of art.

Some many faces

So much silence.

Thousands of glances … unspoken wishes.
Lonely souls bound to each others
so many hands and eyes, that you will see just once.

I feel terribly lonely.


Back in Rome

paris2013 159

I share some other pictures i took of Paris. The filters used are those of instagram.

I was reading my last posts, and i was surprised to see i didn’t wrote a very important thing about my reasoning.

When i think to leave, to go elsewhere… i know that if i leave alone, i will leave also many things behind. Leaving old things, finding new ones. Sure. But it is not so easy. Life is not a well drawn-line. Sometimes you risk, you gamble. You try. You stay loyal, honest to yourself. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But you’ll have tried, and you will have learnt, you lived plenty.  LIFE, FOR THOSE WHO LIVE IT AND NOT JUST STAY STARING TO THE OTHERS, IS ALWAYS A DISCOVERY. YOU NEVER, NEVER GET BORED IF YOU LIVE IT. And sometimes, if you leave something or someone, it doesn’t mean that you’ll lost it forever. On the contrary: sometimes a distance enforce relationships, emotions, feelings. This, is how i feel. 

Home is where our heart is. My heart is not in a place… Rome, Paris, Beijing or NY. My home is the persons i love. And i’m not so lucky to have all these people around me. Half of my family is in Italy. Half is is France. When i can spent a day sitted on a table, and i have my boyfriend, my mum, my dad, and all my brothers at the same day… it’s rare. Sacred. Sometimes i see people that do not not understand how lucky they are to have all their family closed to them. Silly ones. 

Saint Germain de L'Auxerrois ancient Carillon

Saint Germain de L’Auxerrois ancient Carillon

When i think to leave… it’s not only for me. If i don’t become the person i want to be. If i don’t follow my path, test my capacities, and be independent  i won’t be proud of me. And before loving someone, we should first love ourselves.

The majority of the people i met tell themselves lies everyday. But this is not me. Maybe that’s why i am so hated. Or maybe that’s why, after years, people still spy into my life hoping to know more. If we want to be worthy of a long, true love, it’s a long path. Harsh sometimes. We discover ourselves and those who we love. We grow. We suffer and we smile. C’est la vie!

I’d say “You know nothing, Jon Snow”… but instead I’ll say goodnight world.

That’s enough with my personal thoughts. In the next posts i’ll be very proud to share some good music with you!

May life always treat you gently.

44 Cats and Kittens for BF magazine wip. And some may’s thoughts.

These are just some sketches i did when i was on the subway or on the bus with a common, half-broken pen.

This month i have to draw 44 cats for the music magazine. It’s the n° 44 … and in Italy we have this old song (sang on tv for the first time in 1968) that children usually still sing today. It’s the story of “44 cats without owners, that decided to have a meeting into a basement of a building; talking to decide what their destiny was going to be..  *music* 44 cats in 6 rows and 2 remains they were walking so close in 6 rows, their queues twisted one another… ” the song continues. This old song remains because it’s a very nice way to teach children how to remember the multiplication table. I wonder if in your country you also have similar songs. Feel free to share them, i’m very curious!
Drawing with a bic was at the first time very stressing. I do not like the way i draw… I don’t feel at ease when i know i can’t use my rubber, when i can’t go back. A nice analogy for life, isn’t it? I always wish to have more self-confidence. I am starting developing a mature self-confidence when i write, which is actually a very intimate and particular self-criticism.. But when i draw, i must say i’m still a very very big newb. A kind of tourist. Plus, people in the milieu of European comics tend sometimes to be very arrogant. The most unreasonable thing about this arrogance comes from a series of cultural discords… ignorance, a strange sadism that i really can’t handle sometimes. But the biggest arrogance do not come fom the teachers or the professionists:

The worst arrogant behavior comes from the other students. Sometimes i really feel their thoughts “you are a woman, you are old… where do you think you can go with your 27 years, with your terrible drawings, full of mistakes… c’mon get out from here… ya’ stealing my f***ing air bitch”. In the south of Italy you really still find guys that think like an old man of the XIX century. So you see, here they are, smiling at you, forcing themselves… wondering why i am not pregnant with already 2 children. we’re in 2013. And maybe i’m hopeless with my drawings… but they’re Hopeless as persons.                             Hopeless.           Hopeless.

This is one big reason i am really contemplating the fact of coming back to France, and live there definitely. I can’t stand no longer this guys. I feel a strong pressure.. i feel i’m too different sometimes, and when i’m in Rome, i become a real inconvenient outsider. I am starting now, at 27, to understand what being different means.

Sometimes i stay sat in the darkness, listening to some jazz. Feeling the joy of the music, and feeling at the same time deeply alone.

I never felt so uncertain.

So insecure. I really have no idea of what i am going to do.

May life always treat you gently.

In Paris again

parisThis time, it’s quite different. Mostly because of the people. I grew up in Paris, but i lost, during these years, the relationships i had with my classmates, friends, with every single person i used to see everyday. I was a litle girl, i had no idea of what was going on, so i didn’t had the time to say goodbye to all these persons.  And now, after 16 years, here we are.

I saw these faces again. I saw how the places i used to live changed. Our lives went on. I always, always had the feeling, since i’ve left this city, that i lived two different lives. That somehow i was two different persons. “but i’m a  million different people from one day to the next” as Ashcroft says in his song (bittersweet simphony with the Verve)… as i spoke two different languages. As i was somehow both french and italian. black and white.

…And now… well, it seems that i can feel a strange, new feeling. I feel like i woke up from a strange dream, realizing that it wasn’t a kind of binary of two different lives but one. One only, my life, and time moved on not only for me. And what is in front of me is not clear at all. There’s nothing of well-defined. It’s all blurry, it’s all to discover.

But i’m not scared like before. Not at the same way at least.

I guess i grew up. I guess i know a part of myself, at the same way i know the streets of Paris, the particular smell of some places. The color of the Seine when i’m there my friends that i know since 22 years, and that i still love from the bottom of my heart.

This things makes us better persons, and deepens the meaning of our being here.

When cars scare you…

When i was 18, i got involved in a car accident. I was a newbie. I had my driving licence since 2 days when it happened.

macchina1But i was the one who had the hands upon the wheel. And my elder brother Paolo was next to me.

He wasn’t badly injured, but i felt very guilty: i could had easily avoided the impact, but as i said, i really had no experience at all.

One year later, i was in a car with with some friends of mine. The one who was driving was one of the most stupid persons i knew. Thank to a Ferrari’s driver who were behind us, we didn’t kill ourselves in a huge rear-ending on the highway. Italian people are terrible drivers. I learnt a lot from that accident. I don’t go in a car if i don’t know the driver.

By the way, i always had a kind of “Rally” spirit. Maybe because i come from a family of pilots.

After the accidents, i started to be scared. The only idea to be in the car drove me mad. I couldn’t sleep at night thinking that i had to get somewhere by car. Especially into Rome’s city center. This fear ruined many years of my life.

One day i got tired of this feeling. I was the slave of my own fear. So i jumped in the car with my boyfriend, and drove from Rome, Italy, to Strasbourg, France. We made more than 745 miles in one day. I know that it’s not a big deal if your’re American, you have another notion of what is “distant”, but i assure you that for an European, it’s a long road.

I fought my fear facing it. And it worked. So if you are scared by driving because you also had bad experiences, don’t stuck yourself, it will only get worse. Be conscious, and face it. Everything is going to be all right.

Today i love driving. Even if i’m the traffic. As long as i have my blues and my jazz music with me… i can drive anywhere, even you in Mongolia, if you wish.

The amazing thing of Italy is how the cities are close one to each other. So if you travel by car, you’d make a very nice trip. In the same day you can plunge for feet in the Adriatic sea, touch the snow on mount Terminillo, and then have a bath on the Roman seaside. In few hours, you can reach Florence. Once you’re in the north, it’s all close. 

i discovered it driving. The point is: don’t let the fear for something destroy your freedom.