Turn the page on a calendar, or replace the old calendar with a new one, are things that in themselves don’t mean anything. The passing of the months, and the years, is a simple convention.
However, even the most distracted ones or indifferent can’t escape to this sense of transition, inherent in the Christmas period. The relaxation of a holiday context involves everyone, also who has to continue his own work; a period dotted with festivities for a couple of weeks, twisted with weekends, lunches and dinners with family and friends, waiting for the midnight toast to New Year’s Eve.
And then, the darkness. Up here in the northern hemisphere we are going through the period of the year with less daylight hours, and it’s cold, wet, foggy. It makes you want to stay at home, warm, and contributes to this sense of something that ends and something else that begins.

Despite an almost total absence from the festivities of any kind, I also don’t I escape this feeling. And so, here I am, like everyone else, to start a new year.
And I rediscover me, at my turn, involved from that sense of transition and relaxation, which, by a strange phenomenon of small relativity, makes that days spend faster, without showing significant differences between them, nor memorable track self. So much so that I look back and think, three weekends ago I was in Rome, well, it seems like yesterday. And after what’s happened, how is it possible that we have already passed the Epiphany? I wouldn’t know.
What I know is that, after a break of just a handful of days, get back on movement is not so simple. Shake off laziness, refind the rhythms, the healthy and pleasant customs, requires an effort of will.
And since each new journey begins with one small step, well, here it is. It’s this.

Ideally, I resume from the point where I had dwelt myself.
Happy New Year to everyone, and welcome back.