In life sometimes events follow one another without giving you a chance to breath.

The news of my partner’s pregnancy; a mourning that has deeply affected us; the inability to receive a hug from friends and relatives; Italy, and the whole world, paralyzed by a pandemic.

So came the need to breathe, to return to the place where I grew up, which has always represented a safe haven, a happy island, immersed in an unreal tranquility, just a few kilometres away from the areas most affected by the epidemic.

Cocconato d’Asti, in the hills of Lower Monferrato, Piedmont. Set in the second region in Italy for number of deaths for COVID_19, a few kilometers from some of the most affected areas of Northern Italy, here everything seem immersed in a surreal calm.

And it is in this reality, as if suspended in time and space, that “Ballad of Woods and Wounds” was born, a sort of rural ballad, a personal narration of a strange period, which talks about me, my roots, those around me but above all of the tension that pervades our lives.