Magic is the first language of the world. It was the language before words, before mathematics. Humanity can accept concepts like space travel to other galaxies, and yet magic can only be real in the minds of those who believe it, or in the imagination of children.

As fear runs through me I become acutely aware of a stillness. I don’t think I ever realized that there is a stillness in darkness. It feels as if fear and freedom are the same. I wonder if death holds this kind of infinite silence and solitude.

There is an electricity in the air that I feel every time I come to Italy. It enraptures your soul with its incredible history, a sense of the unknown, and a yearning for exploration. But there is also a renewed feeling of life, as if you are born again as your better self, a more authentic self. Somehow your core values are restored, and you are no longer afraid to believe in the things you cannot see.

Black is not just for mourning as people say. It also symbolizes the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. Such as the phases of the moon...