Two years ago on this day I embarked on a flight to Beijing and left a grey Torino in a quite sunny October afternoon. Since then, I never got back, and I’m quite proud to say this. Many things happened, many things changed, many people came and many people went, but I’m still here, owner of my own self.
I like to write a post like this every year, because this day it’s even more important than my real birthday, and an accomplishment of grandeur since I didn’t even know if I would have resisted for a month. Now, I know everything changed and I’m the only one in charge to decide about my choices and my life, and moreover, I grew to understand I don’t give a damn about anything anymore. I’m floating around, here and there, and it’s hard for me to leave Asia because I know there is something important keeping me here without which I’m not sure I could exist anymore.
I went to Australia, at the end loathed it, and decided I had to come back to Asia, and not just for love. I think I cannot go back to the West anymore, and although I’m thinking a lot about South America, I am sure that it will not be the place able to give me these feelings I have now.
Before I left I thought It’d be a dream and a difficult task to stay out of Italy for 3 years. As of today, 14 countries and 730 days later, I think that was a childish idea and it doesn’t matter anymore, but I’m damn proud to have passed the turning point, and already be rushing downhill. So, happy second away from “home” birthday to me and fuck to all those creeps that never gave me a single cent of a chance. Glad to be the way I am, what about you?