Ode to Roma

In every street, a story. In every ruin, a memory.

In every moment, Roma.

Ciao Roma,

I am here again.

Admiring your beautiful streets, your mesmerizing architecture, your ruins that whisper secrets from centuries past.

As a millennial raised on HBO dramas and Italian films, I know all roads lead to you. And yet, every time I return, you feel new, fresh, like a story I’ve been told but never fully understood.

You are starting to seem familiar, and yet, somehow, you become more beautiful with every glance, every stroll.

You are winning me slowly, steadily. Unlike Milano, where it was love at first sight, with you, Roma, the affection grows gradually.

You reveal your treasures slowly, and I, in turn, learn to savor the unveiling.

This is my third visit. The last time I was here, I was on the cusp of change — flying to Berlin, about to start my practices in Denmark, carrying the weight of both anticipation and uncertainty. And now, one and a half months later, here we meet again.One and a half months after the most perfect days in Berlin — a story that is still cooking, waiting to be written, shared, published — after a whirlwind month in Copenhagen, and after a joyful reunion with my dear Milano.

I have changed. So much. And yet, in so little time, so much has happened.

The biggest revelation? My anxiety is almost entirely gone. I’ve learned how to hold it at bay, how to ensure the painful, spiraling thoughts do not take over.

I am meeting you now with new eyes — eyes that know how to savor moments, eyes that face fear without letting it rule me.

And with these eyes, you are breathtaking.

Walking your streets feels like reading a history novel, stepping into a movie, or falling in love with a Roman princess from centuries past.

There is so much life in every corner, so much culture, so many stories carved into stone, hidden in frescoes, whispered in the echo of arches.

You make me wonder, truly, if I should stay here for a while.

While Milano exudes sophistication, you, Roma, make me feel like I am constantly on the brink of romance — about to fall in love, about to step into a cultural event, to discover a hidden exhibition, to taste life in its most decadent and beautiful forms.

You don’t measure your days in hours. You measure them in breakfasts with a view, long walks in search of beauty or love, a bellissimo cacio e pepe over lunch paired with a glass of wine, a siesta, an art exhibition, another slow stroll through your streets, and then a grand dinner that stretches into the night, under stars that feel impossibly close.

You make life seem effortless, and I understand how easy it is to get lost in Rome — in your streets, in your stories, in the pulse of your living history.

Suddenly, you turn me into an art critic, a connoisseur of love, a taster of life’s finest flavors. You enchant, and it is not hard to forget everything else besides savoring this life, right here, right now.

I came for work. I have one day off today, and my plan was to start my thesis — the official writing, in the official template, in an exquisite place, surrounded by inspiration, so that this moment would dictate my motivation for the next six months.

You see, even before meeting you, Roma, I was a romantic. For me, turning ordinary actions into meaningful rituals is everything. I imagined writing my thesis in Nordhavn, Copenhagen, a beautiful new neighborhood that I love, but life got busy, my schedule chaotic, and I couldn’t make it there.

And so I planned to start it with you — here, amidst your streets, your history, your light. But instead, I found myself walking, drinking wine, tasting your cuisine, and writing as though I was born to write, letting the words flow freely, without agenda or structure.

And in this moment, it doesn’t matter. Because you, Roma, have reminded me of the joy of spontaneity, the beauty of being fully present, letting life pour over me, instead of trying to control every drop.

You are not just a city; you are a teacher, a muse, a temptation. You make me feel that drive and pleasure, ambition and ease, thought and whimsy, can exist in the same heartbeat.

Ciao Roma, I am here again.

And I am ready to fall a little more in love.