9 parts Ongoing Mature"Perché il nuovo mondo sta per arrivare, e non c'è taglio, non c'è cicatrice"
My mother used to sing all kinds of lullabies, mostly the ones she made up herself.
I miss Italy...
I miss everything.
The new world has slowly become something less frightening and more infuriating. Red paints every road, lurks behind every door, and speaks to you in a sickening way.
Even so, you love.
At the very least, you need to love, our minds cry out for quiet moments, for even a second spent admiring a beautiful landscape. We can't allow ourselves to be defeated here, and luckily I've found a group that understands that. I believe that, for the first time in a long while, I feel at home.
