The beautiful story of my new tattoo

Some weeks ago I got a new tattoo. It’s a simple triskell on my shoulder, nothing too big or important, still a very nice one.

Qualche settimana fa ho fatto un nuovo tatuaggio. E’ un semplice triscele sulla spalla, niente di così grosso o importante, ma comunque molto carino.


But I think the nicest part is why and how I got it: it was my little sister’s gift to me and my brother for last Christmas. She thought it was cool to have all three of us the same tattoo subject so that we were in a manner linked for all our lives. The triskell symbol was perfect, because it has three parts, as the three of us. Also it takes together both our origins: we are half ligurian (so celtic origins) and half sicilian (the symbol of Sicily is a triskell). We took appointment in the same afternoon so to do even something all together (thing that happens rarely).

Credo però la parte più bella sia perché e come l’ho fatto: è stato il regalo che mia sorella ha fatto a me e mio fratello per lo scorso Natale. Ha pensato fosse bello che tutti e tre avessimo lo stesso soggetto tatuato, così che in qualche modo fossimo collegati per tutta la vita. Il simbolo del triscele è perfetto poiché è composto da tre parti, come noi tre. In più unisce entrambe le nostre origini: siamo per metà liguri (quindi origini celtiche) e per metà siciliani (il simbolo della Sicilia è un triscele). Abbiamo preso appuntamento nello stesso pomeriggio in modo che fosse un’occasione per fare qualcosa insieme (cosa che accade raramente).

Since, even if we grew up together, we are very different people, we decided to chose the version on the symbol we liked most personally, and this is what came out:

Visto che, pur essendo cresciuti assieme, siamo persone molto diverse, abbiamo deciso di scegliere la versione del simbolo che più ci piaceva personalmente, e questo è il risultato:


The first one is my sister’s, under the ear; the second is my brother’s, on the back of the neck; the last one is mine, on the shoulder.

Il primo è quello di mia sorella, sotto l’orecchio; il secondo è quello di mio fratello, sul retro del collo; l’ultimo è il mio, sulla spalla.

It was definitely one of the best gifts I received in my life, and everyone that listened to the story, from the tattoo artist to friends and family, loved the idea. Thank you, sister! ♥

E’ stato decisamente uno dei regali migliori che io abbia ricevuto nella mia vita, e tutti coloro che hanno ascoltato la storia, dal tatuatore ad amici e familiari, si sono innamorati dell’idea. Grazie a mia sorella! ♥

A swing on the sea

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Yesterday in Genova there was a transports strike, so we couldn’t reach the centre of the city and decided to go for a walk to Pegli, not so far from where I live.
Going there I decided to pass by the place I grew up. When I say that I grew up by the sea, probably many people think I mean “in a city by the sea”; actually I mean truly by the sea, passing every day my hours on the shore playing with sand and sea. My grandfather was a fisherman and he built by himself kinda a hut on the beach (as you could see there a lot of them in the past) and he was keeping around there his boats, that had names of members of the family: it was a great joy and honour when he was deciding to go out in the sea with the boat with your name. He was going to fish in the middle of the night and when I was waking up and couldn’t sleep, my grandmother was taking me at the window and showing me a little light far, far away, lost in the black sea, telling that was my grandfather.
My parents were working both when I was little and, from when I was 5 years old, me and my little brother were staying most of our time at the grandparents, and so to the beach. There we were playing free: I was mostly building big cities in the sand, using all kind of things I was finding on the shore to decorate them; with plastic bags covered in sand I was creating lakes and seas where I imagined were living sirens and fishes, and on the water were sailing ships made of squid bones. My grandfather built us a swing on the sea and I was passing hours on that too, up and down between water and sky until I was dizzy. In summer we had a little pool also where to play, and we were having all together big dinners under the stars. Our toilet was a broken bathing hut – red and white striped, with the number on it – that my grandfather found somewhere on the beach, carried there probably from the sea in winter, and he restored it for that purpose: I always loved it 🙂

So yesterday I went there after a lot of years; my grandfather died when I was 15, so 17 years ago, and after that no one was going there anymore, so we gave away his property. That was very sad to me, I felt I lost a big part not only of my life, but of myself, and, in a manner, that we betrayed him. Nonetheless I felt I wanted finally to return there, where I passed so much of my time as a child. Everything was gone and changed, different from what was my memory. All other fishermen huts were gone, with the death of friends and enemies of my grandfather (he had a very particular and strong character, so no surprise he had a lot of enemies too 😉 ). But a piece of my grandfather’s hut was still there, with the structure of the swing reminding me good times. It’s no more fishermen’s territory, the boats are inside enclosures and the beach is dirty since no one is cleaning it anymore. But the sea is still there and I think I saw an old eccentric friend of my grandmother sitting almost in the same place she used to, drawing with watercolours under the sun.
Memories are sometimes all is remaining to us, and I’ll deal with it. Ciao Nonno ♥

17th September 2013

Spiaggia di Multedo – Genova, Italy