About me

At a certain moment in my life I studied the history of art and dreamt about going to Florence. Not having much to spend at that moment, I started approaching that dream by crossing Eastern Europe, from the Ukrainian countryside to the highlands of Montenegro or Albania. Then I took the “wrong” turn and kept on going East for some reason, in search of forts, ruins or old towns.

Somehow, somewhere I lost track of them all, but kept on going East or South. I found happiness while sipping from a glass of black, sweet chai or from a handleless cup of black, even sweeter coffee as I sat on a carpet thrown in the dusty street of Ma’rib. Or while playing with children in the poor side of Aksum.

A friend once asked me: “What will you do after visiting the countries you want to?”. I do not know. Maybe I shall go on, East. Maybe I shall turn to the North, maybe to the South. Or maybe I shall go to Florence. Wrapped in the big blue shawl I bought in Jaisalmer, despite the merchant’s complaining that it was full of pigeon droppings and its colour had faded in the sunlight (as it had been displayed on a wall for days, weeks, months or years, little matters).