thoughts is a journal —a collection of paraprahs. Observations and perspectives I want to share.
I believe this it’s good for the creative process: observing, writing, and sharing. It helps improve elaborating thoughts, reflecting on them, and letting them go.
I’ve got a crush on a man.
There is something deeply inspiring about Winston Churchill. There’s an invisible force, some kind of magnet pulling me toward that part of history and toward him as a person, for how he did what he did.
I don’t aspire to be a politician or a poet—two roles that made him one of history’s greatest figures, the man who stopped that psycho child, Hitler. It’s clear that many admire him for what he accomplished, but even though it’s been a while now since I last saw him in his last biopic The Darkest Hour, his presence keeps resurfacing in my mind, accompanied by a gut feeling. There’s something I want to take from him, but I can’t quite grasp it yet, I haven’t made it visible.
Maybe it’s his immense inner strength in such a critical time—with the fate of the world on his shoulders, under heavy criticism, with the Nazi invasion looming—yet he carried himself with a kind of lightness that only an extraordinary force within could explain.
His strength, his ability to tell a story and make people fall in love with it, the way he made them feel something they had never felt before, how he manifested victory in their minds even while they were drowning in crisis—these are some of the reasons why I have a crush on Mr. Churchill. His greatness sometimes feels like it belongs to another world, other times.
And now as I write, I realize I’ve always admired figures who achieve great things despite being, in many ways, the antithesis of the status quo. And I love that.
Still, there is something I want to understand—something yet to be revealed, something invisibly surrounding me. Maybe it’s just inspiration.
Thank you Churchill.
SPIRITUAL TRUMP
Trump was the first time I felt I could truly engage with and understand a public figure in politics. While, in theory, the Democrats seem very good—idealistic even—they often come across to me as full of empty words and playnig a part, AKA not in control. What I found intriguing about Trump was his authenticity. I could read his identity and understand it, free from the societal masks that most others wear. Compared to him, everyone else seemed scripted.
Perhaps the only comparable figure, in terms of shedding societal masks in politics, was Berlusconi, but I was too young at the time to truly observe and understand him. I’m not talking about politics here, but rather about a persona and an identity untethered from societal conformism.
In my view, this approach almost feels spiritual—a freedom, a dont give a fuck! A willingness to let go and remain unaffected by judgment. I imagine it takes immense inner strength, especially at that level of public attention, to remain genuine despite the pressures to wear a tie, be politically correct, and play the part. Regardless of their political visions, these figures are an example of what I call: just let it go, bro.
This is something I aspire to: letting myself go, despite the gaze and judgment of others—or even my own. That inner voice, perched on my left shoulder, constantly tries to control everything. Learning to use it, or at least let go of its grip, is what I strive for.
23 January 2025, Rome
Time here doesn’t exist
The other day, I was reflecting on how certain friendships never age. It’s an interesting, though somewhat clichéd concept—maybe because we hear it so often. But when you really analyze it, it’s fascinating. We can go months or even years without seeing each other, and when we meet again, it feels like we just said goodbye last week. It’s as if time doesn’t exist. It’s like there’s a temporal suspension between us
They say friends are the family you choose, and I believe there’s real truth in that. Unlike family, which is tied to us by birth, friendships are built on shared experiences, mutual understanding, and intentional connection. Over time, I’ve noticed that with some of my relatives, there’s a natural, gradual distancing that occurs—perhaps because our bond is rooted more in obligation than choice.
However, with these people, it feels like they remain crystallized in a moment, as if that version of me—of Pietro—is there, waiting to pick up those jokes or habits that created the chemistry in the first place. Of course, there can be many things along the way that disrupt this journey—girls, money, ego, etc. But if you’re lucky enough to withstand the bumps along the ride, sharing a life with a friend is a gift that defies physics.
20 January 2025, Rome
Vintage grandmas
In an era defined by our relentless toxic love with technology, we find ourselves on a path with no turning back, heading towards a world that increasingly resembles Blade Runner’s cyberpunk metropolis.
We’re in a unique period of humanity, balancing between two worlds. We ‘re living between past and future. The past feels more vintage and analogue, while the future offers us glimpses—like little time machine windows—that show us what we are becoming.
The generations of our parents and grandparents are still present and trying to survive at all costs, intertwined with the ever-growing, prodigious humanoid we’re raising. Though kind of disturbing, I think this transition is quite romantic.
We still carry phone chargers everywhere, stop to refuel our cars, and complain about always being glued to our phones. If you think about it, these things are already quite antique in our speed-of-light technological society. Interestingly, we can still it fight it! Like choosing to put the phone aside a moment, and look up.
If you want to take a time machine into the past, just go visit your grandmother—or if you no longer have one, go for a walk in an old countryside town. You’ll witness what is on the verge of extinction.
This exact period we’re living in, right in the middle, blends two completely different realities that are drifting further apart.
Cars running on oil, wired batteries, screens, and vintage grandmothers are still here—but just for a moment. Take it all in and appreciate it, because it will all be soon gone. Everything will be automated, integrated, and perfectly unnatural.
We’re in a unique period of humanity, balancing between two worlds. We ‘re living between past and future. The past feels more vintage and analogue, while the future offers us glimpses—like little time machine windows—that show us what we are becoming.
The generations of our parents and grandparents are still present and trying to survive at all costs, intertwined with the ever-growing, prodigious humanoid we’re raising. Though kind of disturbing, I think this transition is quite romantic.
We still carry phone chargers everywhere, stop to refuel our cars, and complain about always being glued to our phones. If you think about it, these things are already quite antique in our speed-of-light technological society. Interestingly, we can still it fight it! Like choosing to put the phone aside a moment, and look up.
If you want to take a time machine into the past, just go visit your grandmother—or if you no longer have one, go for a walk in an old countryside town. You’ll witness what is on the verge of extinction.
This exact period we’re living in, right in the middle, blends two completely different realities that are drifting further apart.
Cars running on oil, wired batteries, screens, and vintage grandmothers are still here—but just for a moment. Take it all in and appreciate it, because it will all be soon gone. Everything will be automated, integrated, and perfectly unnatural.