You can't quite say happy or sad, if you listen to this music of mine. It's all been thought and it'll forever be eagerly awaiting for your return. This is not even music after all, more of a febrile illness of infinite nights staring at the ceiling in the dark. The fear of crossing paths with some lonesome shadows of you and not the real you; remainders of a beautiful love and not our love. But nonetheless there's the resilient, motley hope that God Himself would bother with giving us the chance we deserved at last. F sharp is exactly in the middle, between two C. Life is always between light and darkness. And we couldn't say what it meant when we visited St. Petri for the first time... How could we know?

This is for you, especially if you listened to my music in B Major at least twice. I had been longing to compose something that would have left you amazed and filled with colours from deep within. But then I usually headed to console my sadness. Nonetheless I always wanted to leave a little space for hope. And, in case I found the courage to send you those pieces, arrange them in such a way they stood a chance you could like them at first hearing. I never dared to send almost anything, I never dared to ask...

I've always thought you had to be very much complimented for what you achieved with me. Making me feel alive like I've never felt. Between the various compliments, I never told you that you were the first living example of what I knew some sociologists considered of great importance, in our time. Being a balanced combination of Ancient and Modern: openness to the New, tempered with your sensibility for traditions. You used to talk for long about the Royal family. And the time you got to know His Royal Highness, with respect and sparkles of dream in your eyes; but even with your funny smile and jokes, which could bring us back with our feet on the ground, reading some jewish banker's magazines.

Words are useless. Some music will roll her eyes. To the stars, to the sky. Emptiness inside. Just a little hope is left. Stupid noise is throbbing blindly everywhere, like no-one cares... The noise that separated us.

Endless, concerned waiting. And then you sent me some pictures of a sunset in Halmstadt. In some unexpected ways my heartbeat calmed down. Later your uncle showed me, around there, a chinese restaurant where you and him used to eat. I imagined how sweet and well mannered you were with the young waitress, and my eyes filled with tears.

I was struggling a lot in the wait of something to happen. Something that could bring back our confidence on path. When you sent me this picture from the cold winter I could feel that something was wrong but didn't want to wonder why. I preferred to think about your indubitable need of Italy's air and climate; it made me feel safe. And I kept going on for long since you sent it, alone, closed in on such a silly resentment.

We've been swarmed by too many people. We were thinking in good faith that it was fun, why shouldn't it? They were jumping out of nothing all around, here and there... But they were envious. Envious of the love that you often recounted, smiling with light in your eyes. They took advantage of our distance, which I knew would have hurt us. Even when we were together, we let them get too close. And most of all, when we were far apart. Prematurely, when things were not safe still (are they ever?), we felt like sharing our happiness with the rest of the world; but, exposed, it fell prey to some demons. We had to be jealous of our thing, unrepeatable. It was my fault, because I were to be the expert one. Your tenderness, your baby voices, your jokes, made me feel completely safe before time. For the love I found in you has always been the most precious thing of all. And, almost instantly, I found myself in a brittle grip on reality. I didn't realise... delusional idiot. And now there's no reality at all, anymore.

In the beginning of springtime, I realise for how long I've been wondering if you ever stayed awake thinking about me, during those interminable nights of separation. In the wait; if you were scared of losing me. I couldn't sleep anymore since you left that 12th of June. But everyone of us is different and that's fair. I kept wondering just out of curiosity and didn't dare to ask you; sometimes I wanted to call you at night but just gave up, because I didn't mean to alarm you. We can't think of love in a logical way, I kept telling myself. The way our love blossomed at just a glance that friday night and resisted, to those frantic thousands of miles. The way we had to say goodbye because of tenuous mix-ups. I was waiting for your triumphant comeback someday soon. I composed music to live through the distance that you said wouldn't hurt us. To just keep dreaming of us, with open eyes. Dreaming of our little beloved movements in the enormous city, that they could become our regular habits once again. I felt our ordinary days become the way to heavenly bliss. Your tender gaze, your pointed silences, your bursts of joy; your wise words that had got to be the uttermost consolation in this wicked destiny.

You could have prayed to get through a stormy night in a boat, riven with seasickness. You could have been scared by a three hundred feet drop, after hitting an air pocket in the Boeing. But think how it is like to live through in absolute, revolting void. Nothing to hold on to. Looks like some people pass through a sort of these things in their nightmares and they just wake up in a sweat. I dream of you in fact, rarely. And sleep is no solution. Asleep or awake there's no floating, no swimming; you just sink forever or cling on to burnished images of your past. When you couldn't keep the real thing...

Every sacred second we passed together is forever. Every square foot we walked upon is hallowed. That 's what is left for me on earth. I can't walk alone, where we've been together. Tears fall back to my throat. Everything around there has sparkles of your eyes. Fleeting sounds of the crowd spread echoes of your voice and your laughter. Remorse tied up with memories gnaws away at my heart, my eyes grow dim. Will we meet on the other side? Will you send a message from the beyond? You vanished in a moment like your cherishing words, your laghters, your childish cry when you were sad, the sudden glory I reached next to you, which was not to last. Alas, if I were to be an angry young man, naive, all over his head, drowned in his dark undertakings, would I have been able to catch you? Chase you?

I used to hate wasting all day, wandering around in shopping malls. Yes. Before you came into my life. All of a sudden doing that became funny and amusing, I would say interesting. All of the people in a magical parade. Impressing with you by my side. It was delightful seeing you feeling at ease in all those colours and fabrics, browsing through those crowded shelves smiling at us like you knew exactly what you were doing: having such a great consideration of fashion in Rome and keeping on telling me frankly how much you loved "shopping", in the city where hypocrite tourists arrange high-level options. In the big shops, if you directed your glance to an area where the latest arrivals were elegant enough for your graceful taste, you had to try every possible suit and sometimes even asked for my incompetent opinion. But you were very picky, you would never say yes to a compulsive purchase. Exactly like that time when I got to pick you up in a commercial center in the south-east (Cinecitta, with accent on i, you liked to say laughing). You had to travel more than an hour on your own to reach that place from Corso Francia, but then you couldn't find anything appropriate for a fancy young lady and then we got out with empty hands. I could see no trace of disappointment in your eyes. You were very patient, my love. Sometimes, on our way home, while I was driving in heavy traffic, we were singing so loud, in a blaze of glory, that Matthew Sweet's song that you loved and asked me about one year later. Those were the days... when everything was possible.

Nature, my love, has its discontinuous ways in every phenomenon. And sometimes human Will is part of Nature in that: we can't force things to happen the right way, the way that they should, the way that would be better for us. But our thought likes to delude us about the consistency and power of our Will. Human souls resemble instead physical phenomena sometimes or, as I can say, too often, in a chaotic form, ruthlessly shattering our Will. It's just highs and lows, for no reason, no sense at all, just like shapeless water in the Ocean. Our Love that touched the stars went soon on the down low all by itself, like none of us could do anything against that. But in the end I had to, I could, I had to do something, anything that came to my mind... We can't be excused. I know that, because my spirit could be stronger than jittery destiny.

You're alive, you are and have always been the most lively person I've ever met. Your voice, I can hear your voice infinitely echoing in my ears. I can't believe what people say... And your echoes are more important than their spoken words... Happy Valentine's, my love.

We took wonderful walks in the surroundings of your house, in the city center and in the promenade streets close to the harbour. You were always so concerned with attention to details of your look, but you didn't care at all if the wind was messing up our hair. And you looked so beautiful when you were smiling, in the wind.

Happy birthday, amore mio. We have a lot to remember. Unique things we could only live together. I love you so much. Excuse me for I am sad and my music so melancholic. As for me, you... you just left for a travel, even though the most important of our lives. But my music knows you won't be right back.

I hope all the angels are singing their own way in epic delight for your birthday, and that your unforgettable eyes are surrounded with the most gorgeous flowers and red gold jewels. I love you with all of my heart, amore mio. I am instead really sorry that I can't be about as I should and as I desire, these days. You know why and please, baby, understand the way I feel even though I know you wouldn't like it. And accept my lonely tears... my tears in music.

I couldn't be there whilst it really counted. I couldn't remember our forever lasting laughs together, when I needed it the most. Fortune left me blank and blind first slowly, then to deepest point all of a sudden. I forgot how to passionately play your guardian angel's role, or any useful role. It hurts so much to know now that... just a little more trust in our game, was all we needed.

I trusted the pure air of Sweden, I would've come and lived there with you. But we never pulled it off. Your loved Sweden was offended and then its soaring winds began to scorch our hearts.

Life seemed so easy. It seemed you trusted our life, our life together. And for the sake of our ideas of family we went on, even thousands miles apart. But life is not easy at all, never.

When I couldn't understand your ways, but had no reservations whatsoever... Sorry for running away in Via Veneto, that day, my love.