Today I don't feel like writing, I don't feel like talking. There are days when silence is the best friend of thought. But then, I think back to Eminem, who writes miles of lyrics every day. And when asked, "But then what do you do with all these songs?" he replies, "These will never go on record, these I write so I don't lose my pen."

Don't lose your pen. I like that expression, I don't want to lose it either. Besides, this space is also a place where, through writing, I dig inside myself, look for myself, even try to talk to myself, ask myself how I am.

Life is complex, the further we go, the more pieces are in play, and every choice becomes a web of consequences that seem to be beyond our ability to understand. And so how to do? How to act? By instinct? Or by writing everything down on a piece of paper and then re-reading to see where we are?

I don't know.

One thing that helps me, when I'm lost, is just this writing. This dedicating myself to something that I produce, that I make and then give to you. It is a small goal, a brick in what will then, one day, be a collection of my own period.

My father, one day, told me that the secret of happiness is to be able to do one thing a day. Do it, finish it. I for what concerns my goals, whether they are daily or long-term, I use an application called "ToDo." I have divided my goals into different categories. There are the activities that need to be done soon, and then there are my projects, artist's journal, saturn's ring, ladies' heaven, and then there are wild categories, like "writing ideas" or "books and movies to watch and read."

I also have one that is "The Perfect Home" in which I put every thing/idea I find that inspires me for a dream home. Inside are crazy things like "a grand piano playing by itself in the living room" or "Next to a market" and many other goodies that draw a part of a dream that someday, who knows, maybe I will realize.

The week has been complex, I have been shooting Ladies' Paradise, few scenes, my character, Tancredi di Sant'Erasmo, is going through, at this moment of the set (which is shifted about three months with the airing) a phase similar to what I am going through: he is in a bubble, waiting for.

I've been writing a lot, I'm almost at the end of the third volume of Saturn's Ring. The first volume is even ready for printing. I want to get to June that everything is ready for you. I chose to publish the five volumes three months apart. Listening to your responses, it seemed like a good compromise between anticipation and desire.

And then there is my life, the simple one, made up of Elettra, her family, taking her to school, watching her grow every day. Her thoughts are becoming more and more refined, her property of language also. She has an enthusiasm that I envy, and which, I admit, rubs off on me.

How fortunate to have her near me.

Sometimes she also has wonderful ideas, and when I tell her stories, she suggests better ones. I wish I could be more with her, be more able to devote my time to her. But then here I fall back into my desire to produce, which engulfs everything. And I can't stop, can't let go of this fire.

Fortunately, my work also has a lot of free time bubbles up, and I think I am a present, if crazy, father who passes on to her this passion for expression, for play, for stories, for magic.

So that one day, like a "genetic echo," I will be alive in her voice as well as in her heart.

There, then I get too excited .