Not so many ways to break a heart.

My heart broke only two times in my life.

The first time I was 12 years old. I was a timid child, feeling ugly and insecure and a boy made me feel very bad for the first time.
After that, I never let someone do the same to me again.

The second time was today. I had to say the fateful words: “I leave the laboratory”. I’m in trouble with money, not so much work and the few payments are never arriving. I have to leave the beautiful place I had for my project, the centre of the city, the sensation that I could work on my dream making it real. As Carlo, the painter that has his atelier in the same place, left after my explaination, I felt what I was not feeling from all these years. Something inside me cracked and fell deep. I remember months ago, when I found the place: after few days I went to Stevie in Northern Ireland and I was so happy that every night I was dreaming about my lab. Once it was the real one, once it was all made of wood, an antique and precious place seeming a labyrinth, another time it was like a shelter, full of colours and paint everywhere. I dreamt, I think, of all the laboratories of the world.
And now my heart is broken once more. I will never let this happen again.


Photo: Disorder

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