Marmellata #25

Shoes by the door, a blue scarf on the piano, the scent of perfume in the air as if memory itself had decided not to leave. Everything seems to be in its place, it's just that Sundays have disappeared somewhere. The world remained the same, but it faded slightly, like an old photograph with smiling faces that are now just names in memory. When you listen to the song, you don't just hear longing for a person, but for an entire era: when Senna was speeding down the track and Baggio was scoring free kicks. Back then, it still seemed like love was forever. And now it's just a jar of jello beans found on a shelf, and a warm sweetness you eat by the spoonful while you think about how it really was.