How Porn changes your mind. Fight for Love Movement. Porn kills Love.

Oh, well, it’s already a statement for me. The last time I had bad news about bullying and raping at highschool, here in the region, of course my mind went to porn topic and its consequences. Today, young people are born at this age where porn is not only accessible and free, but supported by all medias. This morning I was on the article of this girl who is recovering from anorexia, and she is so cute when she speaks about “The Generation who killed Romance”. She puts the accent on how dating on line turns out your attention on … Continue reading How Porn changes your mind. Fight for Love Movement. Porn kills Love.

French Spring Blooming.

Spring actually lasted one week, until now, in the parisian region, and then straight back to winter. Happily, I had the smart idea to go outside, with my crap smartphone, and take some more pictures…  you had already the white beautiful pears. This time, I’ll share chestnut tree and amazing flowers, hawthorn, look at the aura, I didn’t put any special filter, this is real fairy aura:) and lilac, wish you could smell their sweet, lovely parfume. If you are not allergic, for sure. The glycine is from My aunt, zia Gio, in Italy. She is not doing well, by … Continue reading French Spring Blooming.

My inspired Tibetan Collection: Mala and Shamballa.

Creativity has become part of my life in the last few years. Macramé technique, shamballa and my own fantasy helped me discover my talent for jewelry artcrafting. The problem is, on the brand shall I put “Made in Italy”, because I am Italian, and our national brand is world renowned, and quality guarantee, or “Made in France” … To be honest, I prefer to put no brand. As for my vintage cards, these pieces are uniques and completely handmade. To test their success, I have offered a few to my friends and colleagues, some I wear my self, especially on summer … Continue reading My inspired Tibetan Collection: Mala and Shamballa.

Sinead’s letter in THE IRISH TIMES 1993.

My name is Sinead O’Connor. I am learning to love myself. I am deserving. I deserve to be treated with respect. I deserve not to be treated like dirt. I deserve to be listened to. I am a member of the human race. I deserve not to be hurt. My name is Sinead O’Connor. I am a woman. I have something to offer. I am and have always been carrying a lot of grief for my lost childhood. And for the effects of its horror and violence on my life. I am grieving the loss of my mother and father. … Continue reading Sinead’s letter in THE IRISH TIMES 1993.