I love the wind when it blows through the red rooftops of ancient buildings, across the River Arno, through the Tuscany and fields of grape and olive trees, and into my hair. If I could, I would be the wind.

We travel against the rules of space and time, my hand in yours, and courage to be alive.

We may walk different paths, we may have different perspective of the world around us, we may dream different dreams, love different people, but we all live under the same sky.

I hold onto the people who know how to grieve, how to to find joy in ordinary things, people who can feel deeply and love madly, like them, I too know what it takes to stay gentle.

There are dreams braided in my hair, there is wilderness in my heart still. Cheers to this beautiful and hard life! 57 years💙

We should write letters more. I miss that. I would say My love, everything here reminds me of our last summer together. Smell of pine trees mixed with salty sea, ripped tomatoes and figs, waves crushing on my feet. I miss you. But oh how happy I am to be at the sea again.

We should write letters more. I miss that. I would say: My love, it is the last day in the place we called home for 30 years. Place we loved, fought, cried, laughed. The place you died. I am sad, but also excited for the new life ahead of me, of possibilities and joy.

My mom gave me life two times. When I was born and when she taught me that no matter of your circumstances, life is still beautiful and magic is everywhere.

I fall in love with hearts that stay open, with conversations where we bare our souls, with laughter that fills empty spaces with joy, with the ones who never give up on dreams.

For one more month I will be sleeping in the room where my husband died I don’t think of it often  like that This is the room where  we slept and laughed cried and held each other A room where we loved (to read the whole poem visit my instagram vladamarspiano)

All the beautiful and delicate things I buried inside me are ready for the spring awakening.

We have to take care of each other. We have to pay attention, and hold each other with kindness, empathy, understanding and love. Those are revolutionary acts.

To be joyful, loving, soft and kind is my personal revolution.

Give me real people, faces that lived life fully. Give me raw thoughts and language of dreams. Give me unmade beds, messy lives, and hearts that beat like mine.

To be truly seen. That is everything.

Horizon

Life is too short not to be able to say: I love you. I miss you.

I hope i never stop being amazed by this life

Today I played the last concert on my beautiful piano as it is going to a new home. How many beautiful memories I had with this piano, how many melodies were composed here. Feeling very grateful and a bit of sad to say goodbye. But new life awaits ♥️

Everything we do matters.

Blossoms

I long for a quiet world. I long for the sound of wind in the tree’s canopy. I long for the sun on my face and your hand holding mine.

A portion of your mind has been entwined with mine in strange, unexplainable tenderness while we live separately in our own quiet places.

Your name on my lips means hope, faith. Your lips on my skin means desire, pleasure. I am the ache of your soul. I am untamed and free.

You can hear now morning birds singing. Spring is here. It is inevitable. And that makes my heart happy and at ease. News are full of horrific stories that often we forget how life is beautiful. Just listen to the birds... like them, we also need to sing.

Every step, every heartbeat, every breath is of missing you.

Grief sits heavy on Sundays. I take it with me to the art galleries, walks by the river and movies. It is always a bit better with nature and art.

“The stomach of the world is in spasm It is waiting for calmer waters To justify its existence And when everything dies down Die, I wanted to say Life will go on Without time” Goran Mars #WorldPoetryDay

I will blossom again. I will be wild like a Spring.

I hope I never lose my sense of wonder.