I was born on February 25, 1987, under the sign of Pisces, in Bollate — a small town on the outskirts of Milan. I have a three-year-old daughter, a partner, a mother, a father, a sister who’s five years older, a cat and at least ten true friends I can count on the fingers of my hands. I have a deep, visceral connection with nature, the countryside, and animals. They give me peace. I’m not a city person. I love watching the sky and seeing how — and how fast — it changes. I love long walks through the fields in spring and the smell of asphalt when it rains in summer, especially when the rain falls on my face and soaks me. I love the smell of a cellar, old memories, and discovering what’s inside a drawer. I love fake things that imitate real ones, and I love diving into them, touching them — just as I love plunging my hands into pizza dough. I’d love to be able to eat messily, or jump into a puddle just to hear the splash. I like things that are intense, full of adrenaline, courageous — even senseless ones.

I like to think of myself as wild, instinctive, impetuous, moody, inconsistent, fragile, double.
 If one part of me is soft pink — maternal, welcoming, patient, and moderate — the other is definitely charcoal gray: impulsive, fierce, aggressive, violent. Sometimes I’m amazed that these two souls can coexist, in the same body, without trying to kill each other. Deeply chameleonic depending on who’s in front of me, I love life — and I love to feel it completely.
 When I like something, I devour it in seconds, whether it’s a plate of pasta or a love affair.
 Inside me there’s a wild, untamed horse that often tries to take me where reason tells me not to go.