My little writing nook. It’s raining outside, the sky is dark, but the light is on, it’s warm inside and I’m working for myself. No better feeling. Italy, 11:00. 📝🧠🖋

I tried again, and I still can’t adopt it. I have the overwhelming feeling that I can’t work with it because I can’t justify the fairly high price (121$ incl. taxes / year for the remainder of my life) for the functionality, utility and simplicity.

I need any macos programmers to tell me: is it possible to write with Python (all I ~kinda know) a plugin for Apple Mail, where I push the button and it schedules the email to be sent at 9 AM the following working day? OK if the computer needs to be ON for it to happen.

It looks like the last european dictatorship will remain so, for the time being. 😠

I don’t particularly love flying but if there’s one thing I’m completely enamored with is the view from up there…

I can daytrip here. Battistero, Campo de' miracoli, Pisa, sep 2019

Bisected. I’ve been wanting to show my new pen 🖋. This is a blue Twsbi Diamond 580 ALR. Parts in aluminum give it a nice weight, the transparent chamber lets me look at my ink slowly emptying, expression of the effort and time invested on the page.

Flow. What’s been my home for years now. Pisa, Italy, november 2019.

I’m generally not a big bug aficionado but this one was kinda cute and orange. Rome, July 2020 🐛

I read sometimes “retweets are not endorsements". But then, what are they? (in the view of those who think this.)

What email client do you all use on iOS or on macOS?

I have republished using the original article I wrote last year about polyamory. It’s a summary of what I say when asked to describe this relationship style! If anyone reads it and has feedback, I’d be super happy to listen. 📝🏳️‍🌈

I realised today it’s possible to be an extrovert with social anxiety. Is that me?

Do criticise my work.

Even if you think I’m way more knowledgeable than you.
Even if you think I might take offense (I will not).
Even if you think the mistake I’m making is stupid.

Do not turn off your critical reasoning for my sake. Please criticise my work.

In my field they love to say “cash is king”, but I believe the true monarch is perception.

I swear, when I email you 📝 on saturday morning I have zero expectations of hearing back before monday. I simply have more time to write in the weekend.

Borgetti (a short story 📝)

Jaq looked over the man’s shoulder at the few people slowly moving around them. She sighed. Everyone looked so beautiful, so elegant. She caught the eye of a young woman, beautiful in her blue cocktail dress, although it seemed to fit a bit wide around the shoulders. Must not have been older than 19, a face that was flawless, her cheeks pink and eyes as big as incandescent lightbulbs. The young woman was slowly dancing with an older man in a tuxedo that had seen too many winters. They were quiet, as were almost all who were slowly moving to the baroque music playing over a stereo system, somewhere in the big room.

Jaq sighed again. Her feet ached. She didn’t mind dressing up, but she hated the pointy shoes. She had changed next to the trunk of her car, just half an hour ago. She couldn’t afford to go home to change: Borgetti mansion was way closer to her office than her home was. Coming straight over from work was the only way to make it in time. She wasn’t looking forward to the one-plus hour drive she would have to make to get home after the party had ended.

Her dancing companion looked at her and only then her mind came back to the present. She squeezed his shoulder while moving slowly in the large, oak-walled ballroom.

«Are you ok?» Malcom asked her. «You looked like you weren’t really here just now.»

She smiled. «I’m here. And I’m fine. But tell me something about you, Mal. What have you been up to in the last ten years?»

Mal smiled. «Not much, I guess. Working. Trying to pay off the house. Not there just yet. But we should be close.»

«You still trying to scam people into switching energy companies for a couple peanuts an hour?» Jaq poked him in the stomach with her left hand and he laughed. «Ouch!» he said, and made a little scene of being hurt for a couple seconds, then he made her pirouette before catching her again.

«No, I’ve been working for a big insurance for the last few years. Lots of demand for personal policies. Health policies. People want to feel secure, I guess.»

«Whatever happened to healthcare as a human right by the way?» quipped Jaq. Mal scrolled his shoulders. «Still there. Allegedly.»

«Yea, allegedly.»

«And what about you? Find your half of the apple just yet?» Mal asked. They were slowly travelling in the ballroom, while the strings music gave way to an Austrian waltz.

«I did. I was married for four years actually.» Jaq told him and looked at his face. He was feigning astonishment, eyes wide, mouth half agape. She laughed and poked him again.

«It didn’t work out. He wanted kids straight away. But you know how I feel about it.»

«You will only have kids when you can be sure you can give them all that you didn’t have growing up», interjected Mal sighing. «You know that’s an unfair standard you’re holding yourself to. Your kids are going to grow up just fine, you know.»

He smiled warmly at her, his black eyes peering into her glinting blue eyes. She hugged him and he tripped into her feet, causing the couple to stumble. They laughed, attracting a few oblique looks from the more austere people around them.

They kept dancing for a few more minutes. The music subsided and the lights started shining brightly on the balcony above the ballroom, where an old, handsome man appeared to the thunderous sound of applause from every guest present.

«You are too kind. Good evening and thank you for that warm welcome. I hope you’re all enjoying this humble evening as we celebrate my daughter engagement.»

The sound of a helicopter got closer and closer. The blue noisy machine hovered over the vast green outside the enormous front window of the ballroom and started landing. Apparently Borgetti, as he had been explaining, had to catch a red eye to Argentina.

«And how’s Annie?» Jaq asked him.

«She’s… Well…» He made a brave smile to her and got a loving smile in return.

«Yea, it seems like dyslexia isn’t great for packing orders quickly. She made the lowest percentile in the latest performance review. They were all canned by an algorithm, basically.»

She hugged him tightly. He smiled at her and then brought his attention back to Borgetti on his balcony. The old host was still speaking, something about how we should all come together to help the less well-off, and another applause when he mentioned his charitable foundation.

«You know» Mal whispered «after all we went through, right now, at this moment of our lives…»

He paused for a long time. Another applause went off, for some other reason this time. He blinked twice, and his lips pressed together into an unconvinced smile.

He felt Jaq look at him with her bright blue eyes. He embraced her around the upper back and whispered. «We’re really lucky to be here.»

Jaq looked out the enormous glass window. The helicopter blades were spinning down, the noise subsiding, soon replaced by a different kind of noise: explosions. First one small pop, then another, and another in quick succession. The bright and colorful flashes of fireworks shone right through the big window and onto the faces of the guests there. Flashes of red, blue, orange and red again. The noise started increasing in volume, started to sound very alike a bag of popcorn bursting in the microwave.


She looked up at Mal. His face was not on the light show outside. He was looking at a wall lantern, inside, that was turned off, together with all other electric lights. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked nostalgic.

A cold shiver went through Jaq’s spine, making her tremble. She looked at Borgetti, who was finished with his speech and was looking at the fireworks, next to a very tall dark haired woman with a shiny necklace.

Jaq’s right foot ached all of a sudden. She shifted her weight, stepping back from Mal and catching his hand. The little explosions sounded like coming from a soundproof chamber now, to her. She squeezed his hand tight.

«Are we?»

Why is abortion under attack in 2020?

So, italian healthcare specifics are left to the regions (administrative bodies that are sort of like american states, but with no sovereignty). One of our regions, the landlocked antique jewel that is Umbria, just cancelled the possibility of having a medical non-surgical abortion in a one-day hospital visit and mandated a required hospitalisation of three days. That goes against all recommendations by health authorities and by gynaecologist experts. That makes it harder for working women with precarious jobs to afford the procedure. And to top it all off, the decision was passed by the region’s governor, a woman.

I have no words and I stand with the right of everyone to freely and safely make decisions of their own body. Also, I advocate for the right to safely abort to be included in the declaration of human rights as part of rights to health.

Attacking rights to abortion just means attacking working citizens' rights to abortion, as we all know, the wealthy can travel anywhere civilised to do it.

It’s 2020, by the way. And we’re lucky to be a European country. Why do we still need to say this?

(while reading up for this, I found that in one of our 20 regions, the beautiful Sicily, medical abortion is not even possible at all. Sigh.)

By the way, ending discrimination and standing up for equal rights is not only a moral duty. It also makes sense for the progress of humanity, it makes economic sense and it promotes safety and well-being for everyone. History’s being made, let’s stand on the right side.

I now officially have a fountain pen. I feel empowered and cool with tones of vague nostalgia.

I delivered my bachelor dissertation yesterday. 📝 I’ve learned so much and I have so much to write about this experience of putting together my first ever semblance of a research paper. Right now though I just feel I need a 4 weeks vacation. I’ll see you all in August. 😉

It is not enough, it’ll never be enough, but today I put on a mask, went out, found a cute flower and took a picture. Here it is, in memory of George Floyd and all the human beings around the world who succumbed to injustice.

In Italy, one of the most barbaric business practices I’ve heard is the asta al ribasso (downward auction). Big grocery chains buy basic produce (tomatoes and other vegetables 🌱) by setting a maximum price per tonne and letting agricultural producers bid lower and lower prices in the hopes of getting the order. Sometimes this mechanism causes produce to be sold below cost, something that only the big producers can sustain, driving smaller farmers out of business and incentivising illegal work with sub-poverty wages. Does this happen anywhere else?