English, Stories from the city

Three o’clock

front page fro my work blogThree o’clock. Three o’clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do.

A peculiar moment in the afternoon. Today is intolerable.

I’m in the garden looking a the same boring pale Londoner sky and I think about what happen if I would be a famous writer instead of working in event marketing from 9am to 5pm every day.

I’d like to write but I don’t really know how to do it.

I try to take here and there what I like but I know that I’m too insicure to stand for my ideas. I would be too insicure to put out there my real name because I’m scared to be judged.

I’m thinking about this while I’m looking at the sky hoping for little bit of sun in this boring English summer.

I hate the English summer. The English summer is like an unreliable guy. It’s sunny but while you ready to go out is windy and grey again. Like that guy that invite you out for dinner and he’s texting you just a couple of hours earlier to say he got stuck at work with something urgent to do.

I hate the English summer because I never know what to wear and I’m always uncomfortable in my own clothes.

I’m Italian, the summer is one of those things you know for sure it will come and when is there it’s sunny and warm for at least three months.

I’m laying on my chair in the back garden looking at the sky feeling the scent of the lavande plants. Thinking that  I will probably not going to move for the rest of the day.

I’m thinking about how much I love and hate this city. I came here long time ago, I lived for three years and run away, and I came back again.

I love and hate London because of the people. The people here are not warm, they’ re polite. But when it counts they’re something better that polite, they’ re kind. They’re always helping you with your big suitcase in the tube, even during the rush hours. Or let you jump the queue if you’re crying. Or let you pee when you even didn’t buy something. Giving you directions just because you look lost. Everyone gets darlingcalled. And I mean everyone. If you have a vagina, by birth or by choice you will be called darling in the way that it will never sound sexist.

While I was thinking non- sense the phone rang it’s Rosie, she wants to go out, I don’t.

I will be here for the rest of the day writing non sense about London.


English, Stories from the city



It’ s a bright spring morning somewhere in East London around the time where most people are already at work, but as with the suburb of the city, it doesn’t much feel a weekday. People leisurely sip their coffees, proceed without a trace of haste along the tube platform and even the birds sound mirrier that their mates in West. Today I am on my way to a studio of my friend Francesca. Francesca is one of the best artists I know. Even if she doesn’t know it. Becoming her friend was like breathing fresh air. So different from some of the friends of mine in Italy. I was different in Italy. I was always scared of my ideas, without any confidence in my actions and words. Almost uncomfortable in my own skin. I gave the opportunity to take advantage of my self-doubt personality at that time. Forcing myself in some sort of unhealthy relationships, surrounded by bullying characters.

My friendships were mirroring my insecurities and so my love relationships. A disaster! Collections of unconfident, selfish men.

The first thing Francesca said to me when I came to her studio that morning was ” I’m so happy to see you” she was always happy to express her appreciation and love to everyone.

It’s a special bond what we have. We get over some difficulties in the past and I know I can rely on her.

I’m trying to be more independent from relationship now, less fan or groupie and more supportive and independently critical with people I like.

Francesca loves to say that we can travel the world together on the boat one day. She has a beautiful dark skin two years old daughter and a broken heart relationship now behind. She loves to say that being a single mum is the best thing had ever happened to her life.

Francesca is small and thin, naturally fit woman. The result of fast metabolism and a super excited fast thoughtful mind.

She has been travelling around South and Central America for more than three years and decided to come back to London when she got pregnant of her first daughter.

Laura is always with her. She is a small beautiful creature, the result of love between an Italian artist and a Colombian surfer that she met in Costa Rica.

Her studio is a bright space no bigger that my living room, full of old and new canvas, colours and ideas. I like to go there when I need some peace and inspirations.

We had a coffee together and start working in the most religious silence with Laura sleeping in her little confy bed.

Illustration: Kristine Bookshire – Print of original watercolor painting of girl in a kimono.