Tag: life
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Winter is Over
A blood pressure cuff, a worn folder with someone else's name on it, and the walks to the pharmacy through the freezing air. Winter is over, thankfully.
The Lock
An empty wardrobe, a rescued pendulum clock, and a lingering scent in the kitchen. Closing a door, forcing the key a little, and leaving a piece of life behind.
My City
I spent years trying to return to my city, only to understand that what I was looking for had disappeared long before I did.
The Red Envelope
A red envelope reopened after many years. A few pages, too many questions.
The Last Shift
A forgotten cotton swab in an old cabinet brings back the memory of a terrifying afternoon on the road, the indifference of crowds, and the quiet dignity of a stranger's last day at work.
Anatoly's Mother
Anatoly's mother waits for her son's messages with the quiet, stubborn hope only a mother can have. In the space between one phone call and the next, war enters the house through silences, small gestures, and the unbearable weight of what everyone already knows.
I'm Still Guybrush
A jolt before dawn, a terminal waiting in the dark, and the Monkey Island soundtrack pulling me back to a warm summer evening in 1991. The screen has always been my safe harbour - it just took me thirty years to understand why.
Two Seashells
A chance encounter with Ivan Graziani in the mid-nineties, a nod I didn't deserve, and the years it took to understand what he already knew about our sea and the places we leave behind.
The Usual, Thanks
A snowy drive to a meeting that turned out to have nothing to do with IT - and a pizzaiolo who understood politics better than the politicians.
The Scent of Denial
An anonymous white bottle in a 2001 photo brings back the sharp smell of adolescence - of treatments, hidden shame, and the night I looked in the mirror and finally saw what everyone else already had.
The Scent of the City
A morning walk through Ferrara becomes a journey through scent and memory - from London coffee to a grandmother's market, from ancient hospital corridors to the unmistakable perfume of fresh bread.
The Scent of Freedom
A rubber keychain shaped like a foot, a Piaggio Zip, and the sweet, terrifying taste of independence.
179 Euros
A 179 Euro purchase in 2010 seemed like a splurge. 16 years later, that appliance has survived moves, earthquakes, and snowstorms, becoming a silent witness to my life's changes.
The Doctor's Eyes
Curious minds never grow old. Their fear isn't aging, but running out of time to learn.
Up, 16 Years Later
A new pair of earbuds triggers a sudden journey back 16 years.
Arrivals and Departures
A sleepless night, a thought about the day I arrived and the day I'll leave.
The Weight of a Millimeter
A distracted driver, a motorcycle crash, and the terrifying wait to see if I would ever walk again.
The Scent of a Photo
My smartphone just showed me a photo, taken exactly four years ago today. I published it on the Fediverse back then, showing nothing but enthusiasm for the great takeout food we had ordered. The truth was different.
The Magpie
A bird’s noise is enough to bring back memories of months spent half-trapped because of a magpie.
The Mechanically Perfect Lie
A loud noise outside my window brings back a memory from 2002. The night I truly could have died.
The Virtue of Finished Things
An email asking if my software was abandoned made me realize how the ideal of completeness has disappeared from our lives. In an era of mandatory updates and disposable goods, I reflect on the value of boring software - the kind that is finished, reliable, and simply does its job.
The Universes Behind the Lights
A small domestic crime, a cold night walk, and the mind starts to wander...
Looking Back at 2025, Looking Forward to 2026
A peculiar year is coming to a close. Between world-class conferences and rediscovered friendships, here is my personal review of 2025.
Between Then and Now
Sometimes I need a refuge. A refuge far away in space and time, remembering those who are no longer here.
The Two-Pound Lifeboat
A passport photo slips from an old book on a rainy Christmas afternoon. The memory of a week stranded abroad with nothing but a two-pound paperback for company.
The Gray Teacher
On a gray winter morning, memory drifts back to an old classroom, a stern teacher, and the thin line between mist and humidity.
What If I Were Twenty Again? Thoughts on My 46th Birthday
Turning 46 triggers a question: would I go back to being twenty?
Just an Old Sign
The waiting room was full, but a forgotten sign made me feel suddenly alone. Revisiting a moment when life happened all at once, leaving marks that took time to heal.
The Masks of Hypocrisy
A rejected Christmas decoration becomes the catalyst for a reflection on the dark side of small community dynamics.
The Chair
A familiar road, a moment of pause. I found myself looking at a place that once meant purpose and community. It’s a quiet reflection on what remains when people move on and what stays behind in silence.
The Lady of the Clock
The search for an antique clock turns into an encounter with its elderly owner and a promise to become the custodian of a century of memories. A personal reflection on legacy, loss, and the stories objects carry.
The Rubble of Memory
A fleeting glimpse of a car on the highway sparks a journey back in time, a reflection on youth, lost dreams, and the powerful, deceptive nature of memory.
When Bigger Stops Being Better
A follow-up on why I didn't name names, why the world isn't the United States, and why small businesses remain the backbone of genuine service.
9 September 1943
On 9th September 1943, my grandparents faced fear, hope, and loss in the midst of war. This is their story, told through the memories of that day.
I will be flowers
A late-night awakening turns from fear of death to a profound sense of peace, finding beauty in becoming part of nature.
Make Your Own Kind of Music
The sound of classic rock from a passing bike on a summer evening, and the unexpected bridge it creates between two generations. A quiet reflection on the courage to choose your own music, and your own path.
I Just Want to Go Back Home
A single thought that deafened the noise of a new city and a new life. This is the story of a paralyzing fear, of porticoes that felt like cages, and the silent nod that changed everything. It's about finding your way back home, even when you're far away from it.
A Circle of Strangers
On a warm Italian night, my wife and I stopped to watch the dancing. When the music cut out and a crisis unfolded, I witnessed a crowd of strangers offer a silent, profound lesson in human decency and protection.
The Last Match I Remember
Not every match is about winning. Sometimes, it's about who we are when the game gets serious. I was never truly competitive, but tennis taught me about respect, disappointment, and the quiet moments that shape us
The Broken Gramophone and the Stolen Land
The story of a broken gramophone and a piece of stolen land. A personal account of my family's legacy, caught between fascist violence and the calculated greed of those who wore the banner of anti-fascism for personal gain.
So, where are you going on vacation this year?
Why this simple question reveals the biggest generational conflict of our time.
Your Exit Strategy Dream Is My Customer Nightmare
I found a promising tool and reached out to the founder, ready to invest and partner up. I was met with a wall of silence. It crystallized a feeling I've had for a while: for many, the exit strategy dream is a nightmare for customers who actually care.
Nomadic Soul, Habit-Loving Heart
A personal reflection on balancing a love for travel and exploration with the deep-seated comfort and reassurance found in everyday habits and rituals.
Where Have You Been for the Last 20 Years?
A personal journey from 20 years of self-doubt to discovering the welcoming BSD community at BSDCan. Sometimes courage comes later in life.
MacBook Pro vs Car: Why Small Businesses Still Win
A personal reflection on how small businesses — from roofing repairs to tech support — often deliver greater value, care, and integrity than large corporations. Real people, real work, real trust.
When We Become Cheerleaders for Our Own Demise
Why do we become cheerleaders for our own demise? A look at "vibe coding", professional Stockholm syndrome, and our tendency to defend the very tools and systems that threaten our skills and autonomy.
The Azores High and the Symphony of Pistons
A personal reflection on seeking tranquility outside the city, only to discover a curious modern habit: the relentless use of cars for even the shortest distances. Why do we trade peace for the car keys, even in 'quiet' havens?
My Way
A personal reflection, set to My Way, on the inner journey towards authenticity and the quiet strength found in choosing one's own path amidst expectations
Forty
A poignant reflection on a sister's 40th birthday, filled with vivid childhood memories, shared joys, and an enduring, heartfelt connection.
Reconnecting After a Decade: A Pizza, Laughter, and a Shared, Shaking Memory
A heartwarming reunion with old friends after ten years triggers vivid memories of a terrifying earthquake and the incredible solidarity shown during that crisis.
Being a Bad Salesperson, By Choice
The conflict between 'good' sales tactics (pushing known platforms) and being a 'bad salesperson' who values understanding, control, and real client needs.
That Night in Athens
A memory from a 1998 school trip to Athens, and a night that unexpectedly defined a sense of self and freedom.
No Masks, Just Us
A personal reflection on quiet moments, NetBSD, and the idea of celebration beyond social expectations.
Tiny Tool, Small Lesson
A simple screwdriver, a lost item, and a small moment that reminded me why my wife's advice is usually spot on.
Why I'm Expanding My Blogging Presence
I'm reviving my personal blog to share thoughts, stories, and reflections that last—beyond the fleeting nature of social media. Technical posts will stay on IT Notes; everything else finds a home here.
That all started with the Big Bang
Some places stay with us long after we've left. This is about one of them — and the strange way a sitcom, a lightbulb, and an old memory are still all connected.