I - Passi Dell Amore

We often think that love is a destination—a place we arrive at by chance. But in truth, love is a staircase. Some steps are made of marble, smooth and easy. Others are broken, wooden planks that creak under the weight of our fears.

Love is not a leap. It is a staircase.

Not a failure, but a descent. Love stumbles. You miss a step. Here, love is not a feeling but a hand reaching out in the dark. It is the step of forgiveness. i passi dell amore

Alla fine della scala, (At the top of the stairs,) We often think that love is a destination—a

And finally, there is the last step. But love’s staircase has no top. The final step is simply the decision to keep climbing. To hold a hand while ascending, to wait for the other to catch their breath, to stop and look back at how far you have come. Others are broken, wooden planks that creak under

uno nel temporale. (one in the storm.)

Cammina piano, amore mio. (Walk slowly, my love.)