March 18th... South of the world. My SOUTH is North really, if you look at it from Africa. The city of Reggio Calabria (the ancient Reghion) is at the toe of the boot. The Italian boot. It’s in front of the shining Sicily. We are a land of MYTHS and LEGENDS. We belong to Magna Graecia before than to Italy. My sky is the same as Ulysses’. The poet Gabriele D’Annunzio called the seafront “the most beautiful kilometer in Italy”. Growing up in the South MAKES YOU DIFFERENT. The SUN is always into place. Smell of salt everywhere. Sometimes it rains, sometimes the wind blows your petty worries away. I live on the 38th parallel, the same that crosses SAN FRANCISCO. Maybe that’s why I feel like I belong also to that city in California, where the immensity of a limitless ocean enables any intimate revolution. It doesn’t matter where you were born. What matters is who you choose to be. ‘Can anyone steal what makes you… you?’ THAT’S THE QUESTION! I’m pretty sure that we get to know our own towns just when we watch them from afar.

I watch Reghion from wherever I happen to be, and I always feel the same: the Mediterranean sea flows within me. I feel the POWER of two thousand myths and heroes all at once. I can be anything. I think. But when I go back to town I see my people’s dreams abandoned on the ground. It hurts. But I still see dreams ready to fly. Dreams capable of moving the mountains and parting the sea. There are still people who are strong enough to make the impossible possible. They ‘re my HEROS. They keep dreaming while crashing against an invisible WALL. It makes you run as fast as you can. And damn!! It’s so beautiful to see my people hurrying toward the first morning sun! They become one with the sun; they go through the wind; There they build new HOPES Do you know this kind of wall? The invisible wall? It’s something you’d rather forget about. But when you crash against this wall, you remember what land you belong to. It’s called Mafia. You can’t see it. You have to fight not to lose what makes you, you. But when someone WINS, everybody WINS.

In one of my last song in Italian I sing words inspired by my father’s last book:

This STORY is about


A Romantic


And It’s about all of us.

‘There is always an old SOUTH

Somewhere in the WORLD

More retrograde and generally HOSTILE

Everybody has got their own SOUTH

Patiently waiting for equity and JUSTICE

Since the time of Independence WARS

Everybody has their own somewhere ELSE

A life is not enough to find IT

Everybody has their own SOUTH 

Imperfect dust raining DOWN  

And it’s POETRY



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