I write in order to tell my uneasiness. For every story I plant a black seed, then I water it and let it grow page by page, night by night, so that it could be a huge and mazy tangle of thorny branches. Magnificent and grim at the same time. I like stories that punch the reader in the face, that leave him a bitter taste at the end of every chapter. Someone defines my writing as a “writing by images” and I think I got this from my love for photography: before I put on paper every single word, I need to visualize that scene in my mind. I prefer not a rich number of locations or characters; I like bare dialogues: “The road” by Cormac McCarthy is my personal bible. For me writing is that compelling desire to come back on that carousel that scared me few minutes ago.

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