I am living good days, I can hug my child and my wife. Argue with my family but support and receiving support from them. I can live my life like anyone's else "normally". But this year I've been given two exceptional presents. A new heart. And lots of luck.

In these lucky events knowing Loris, and having a great progression after the heart implant were the best one I've had in life (after my wife and my child).

Now Loris has not been so blessed after his transplant. But in those last months of his life he has spread love, courage and strength to lots of people. That will remember him and honor his sacrifices and – I hope – will live their life like he's taught us to do.

It has begun that time of year when the Sun rises ten minutes after the sound of my alarm. Typically I raise the shutter on the east-facing side of the house, go to the kitchen and start making coffee and the rest of breakfast for my wife, meanwhile giving treats to the cats who have been waiting patiently for at least half an hour for my awakening in anticipation of their tasty snack.

The coffee bubbles in the moka, and the house begins to light up. It is cloudy today, and the sunlight with its soft awakening explodes in a range of pinks and oranges in the sky.

I sit at the table, the room here is facing west and the sky is very cloudy, with a strong mistral moving these immense piles of clouds, the red of the sunrise is reflected on the buildings further on, and a wonderful color contrast is created.

It is a free spectacle that I have been lucky enough to enjoy here at home for the past sixteen years. To be able to enjoy it once again, especially after this year's medical events, has an even more special flavor.
Have a nice day!

via @gvarisco

It's being nearly a month that I've beem missing here, and my latest post wasn't so cheerful to read. Anywat I've finally got to get back at home and stay with my family.

In some ways it was a "fulltime job" trying to recover the time lost in those long months of hospitalizazion, with kisses, hugs, smiling with my family. Obviously there were also some arguing here and there, but at the deepest level of our hearts we all wanted to stay together and move on over issues knowing that even arguing with the people we love it's a gift that life gives you.

We also enjoyed some days at the seas, and I cannot tell with words how it felt good and liberating to have a swim with my kid without fears of having a stroke any moment.

So this post is a way to tell that I'm ok, and I just need to get back to my normal life, as much as possible. Next week I'll have to go through some examination and the fear os something going wrong is real. Let's hope for the better 🙏 !

An almost sleepless night today, interspersed with two long periods of waking up. Still away from home after 27 days of hospitalization whose end I still don't know, when on departure I took leave of my son, hoping for a trip of only 72 (scant) hours.

The sky is still black here in Milan, laden with the promise of rain with intense weather events nearby, while the sun is shining at home. In every sense of the word.

Thoughts chase each other, ranging from frivolities to worries about the future. Thinking about what I will do when I return home, what will be easy for me to do and what will not. How I will experience returning to Milan for my next checkup in a month. Will I experience the anguish of a new problem that will blow up the much-needed family vacation, or such that it will seriously affect my health? I realize it is pointless to fret, however, the head is racing, and getting it to slow down is not easy....

The physical, geographic, seasonal distance between me and my family these days is like the difference between the 15°C and leaden sky looming over Milan this morning here as I wake up with a sprinkling of rain, and the images I see coming in from the live webcams in Puglia, where I live.

It makes me a bit melancholy, if not quite in a foul mood. And it makes me worry about what is to come in the next few days.

Some time ago I found a 3D model of the Apple Park’s Rainbow Stage.

Recently a friend of mine, playing with his 3D printer, decided to print this for me as a little present.
I thought it has come out really good, and I’m grateful for his present.

One of the funniest and most incredible things I have seen outsides the lanes of the Niguarda's hospital in Milan is the number of birds that lives on the trees and in the city park nearby the hospital. There's also a riding school for horse riding therapy, dedicated to younger kids.
But, in some occasions, you can encounter Diego. Diego is a peacock who's made its home nearby the riding school (which I see from my window) and when there's little traffic you can see making a walk in hospital avenues. And that's funny.

Being (again) in Milan yesterday gave me another (unexpected) joy. In fact, I hade the chance to re-encounter in person my friend jtheo after our last meetup during the BzaarCamp in sept. 2006, and his wife xlthlx (whom I've known online for decades but never had the possibility to meet in person).

As said in a previous post, being struck in this city a thousand miles away from home sucks. But it's also giving me some small little pearls of joy and memories to take back home.