Ah, sei straniera

Sometimes, all it takes is a quiet island and an old house to remind you what it truly means to live.

Sardinia — a private island,
an old aristocratic house heavy with stories and soul.
Stepping inside felt like slipping back through time
to a way of living that’s slower, quieter,
rooted in community and simplicity.

A life we’ve forgotten, chasing speed and more
more work, more success, more everything.
But something inside us knows better
we were made to live simply,
to breathe deeply, to enjoy without rushing.
Life isn’t a race. It’s meant to be savored,
felt, lived fully.

I have dreams and ambitions, sure
I’m chasing my own paths too
but the truth is, if you don’t enjoy the ride,
then what’s the point?
Fun, laughter, lightness — they must be part of the journey.
Without them, the end feels hollow.

Sometimes, even just recently,
I feel like I’m falling behind,
looking at people building careers, stacking achievements,
while I’m still trying to resist growing up too fast.
I do my part, pay my dues,
but inside, I want to run wild, dance free,
hold on to the child I am.

Those island days reminded me of that truth
it’s not only okay to keep that child alive
it’s essential.
I do what I want, travel endlessly, meet new souls,
carry projects but no heavy weight of responsibility.
I choose my rhythm—work and routine, yes,
but all on my own terms.

The days there were simple,
but so deeply full
their meaning is only starting to unfold now,
like a slow sunrise.

Not because of what we did
after all, it was just one pizzeria and one bar
coffee on the balcony, swims, naps, quiet lunches.

Dinner was the crown of the day,
then back to the terrace, talking
until the stars faded and the sun rose.
The intensity came from the connection
with the friend who invited me.
We needed to talk so much,
about everything twice over
from humanity to technology to love.
That kind of deep friendship
makes me feel truly alive.

It was so beautiful that even though it felt intense,
those moments kept coming back to me
memories flashing,
making me smile all over again.

The island made me slow down
and appreciate the one thing that matters:
the present moment.

I watched the Italians there
so connected to the sea and this slow way of life
people who really know how to enjoy every moment.
Everything was beautiful
to watch, to experience, to be part of.

I met many people,
but especially one -
a gorgeous girl who made my nights softer,
who held me as we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
She made me wonder
what if all I want is to fall in love on an island,
and never leave?
To speak only in the language of the sea, the sun, the moon,
and endless love.

There was a cleaning woman in the house
so sweet and kind
and one morning, alone making coffee,
she came over.
I told her my Italian is still a work in progress,
and she smiled, saying softly,
“Ah, sei straniera.”

The way she said it
and the house itself
with its aristocratic bohemian style,
old, beautiful furniture,
a jacuzzi and sauna hidden in the bathroom
felt like stepping into an old Italian film.

I went straight to the mirror,
drew on deep, intense lipstick
a dark, rich color
to hold that feeling, that magic, just a little longer.

We had private dinners on the balcony,
a chef preparing traditional dishes just for us
so bohemian
And the conversations
they never stopped.

I don’t remember the last time
I talked that much,
that deeply.

That house felt like a warm embrace from the movies,
making me feel so elegant, so lucky 
and I’m glad my clothes matched the mood.
Usually casual, this time my outfits
kept pace with the rhythm
like I was part of a classic Italian story,
with all its passion and flair.