Personal stuff on a winter day.

Here we go again. Even today will be a gloomy day, with no big things to do.

It's snowing again, wildly. accumulates or does not accumulate .... we'll see.

I have an unlikely booklet to read, a letter to write to a friend ... Yes, I admit that I still write letters by hand, with pen and paper.

I'm Jurassic, but do you want to re-read those crumpled and crackling sheets, folded in a pastel-colored envelope?

Of course I don't always do that. It happens every now and then to fall into this reminiscence, from a very long time. Because sending a letter today means waiting at least 10 days before it arrives at its destination, then a little longer, for the recipient to read it and elaborate, if they feel like it, an answer.

Times dilated, unthinkable for our day.

Yet it is always a little emotion to find in the mailbox something of your own, personal, really written just for you ...

Friendships are consolidated with this stream of epistles… they are less ephemeral, more reflective.

Even if then, at the right moment, there is whatsapp, which balances everything and resets the moment. Spoken photos and thoughts, not just written words. Technology is now indispensable.

As I write the snow continues to fall.

The day will remain gray, but I will color the meaning of my words, which I will choose to tell my dear friend about this strange new experience of writing a blog. We will (I seem to hear her) have a lot of laughs together and I can't wait to read what she will rewrite me.

How important it is to laugh about something every day. If I find nothing else, I am satisfied and laugh at myself. I am really hilarious when in the morning looking at myself disheveled in the mirror, I wonder: what can I talk about today?