Coraline

Coraline è arrivata in una serata fredda. Fredda ma sorprendentemente leggera. Una di quelle sere uguali a se stesse, nella solitudine di ogni giorno e di ogni notte. Però contrappuntata da inusuali risatine solitarie nel silenzio. Risatine leggere e sciocche, da messaggi pungenti di amici lontani. Coraline è arrivata come una di quelle macchine del … Continue reading Coraline →

The room where it happens

When theatres reopened, I could no longer go. My Saturdays were taken from me by somebody else and here we are, months of prison later with nowhere to go to feel safe and alive and hopeful. I managed to sneak out only twice - or was it three times? - since March last year. I … Continue reading The room where it happens →

Spade

Per poco piu' di un'ora ho guardato le tue spalle e la finestra dietro di me e le tue spalle ancora. Per poco piu' di un'ora di un tempo senza tempo il sonno mi e' stato nemico.

Hurt

Piu' o meno cosi'. Ma senza le parole. Them: Che cosa provi per me? Me: Ma come ti viene? Non si puo' pensare a questo, adesso!! Them: Si', si' che si puo'. Cosa provi per me? Me: Dio mio. Tutto l'amore del mondo. Them: Bene. Ora mettitelo in tasca e non lo guardare mai piu'. … Continue reading Hurt →

Beauty

Not much has changed since my last post. Or maybe everything has changed but there was no time, heart, energy, space, stomach to write about it. It is all so miserable and dull and soulless that words have lost taste, colour, shape, rhythm, texture. And then this morning I was hit by a short poem. … Continue reading Beauty →

Locked-on

In my head I have written at least a dozen posts during this lockdown hell. Words never made it to the screen. Days flooded with trillions of chores, urgent needs, giving, preparing, tidying, cleaning, holding, reassuring, videocalling, crying, working, crying, texting, organising, surviving, medicating, providing, pretending, entertaining, worrying, crying, clinging on. Nothing much has changed. … Continue reading Locked-on →

À bientôt, Kabaret.

I went to get kicked in the heart again. I was prepared this time, though. And yet, I felt it all the same. I just had the chance to appreciate more fully the pauses and the crescendos and the half breaths at each punch. I saw the touring production of Cabaret the musical for the … Continue reading À bientôt, Kabaret. →

Wanting to make and to become

I picked the dance workshop. Some voice inside my head suddenly went “oh, for god’s sake, challenge yourself for a change!”. And before I could take it all back, an actual voice outside my head confirmed: “that's booked, 2pm on level 4”. I got to the conference late, of course. Drop the children off to … Continue reading Wanting to make and to become →

“And I am you and what I see is me”

(Pink Floyd - Echoes) It's weird how I can talk about my mental health (or lack thereof) with relative ease whilst writing about bras suddenly feels personal and awkward. But I continue to be amazed by how one thing connects to another and so you might have to hear about bras, however uncomfortable that makes … Continue reading “And I am you and what I see is me” →

Unexpected gifts

Well, last post did not do very well at all. Not that one writes posts for them to do well. But it is nice when they do. I might not write for validation, but I sure as hell love it when I get some. I spent a whole counselling session talking about creativity the other … Continue reading Unexpected gifts →