It's funny: my eyesight keeps getting worse as the years go by, but my view of the world keeps getting wider
#Reflections #Life #EveningReflections
#Reflections #Life #EveningReflections
reflections
Evening came
Three years ago, today
#photography #photo #picture #pic #NaturePhotography #Sunset #Autumn #evening #Reflections #Clouds
This photo is 8 years old today.
It’s not directly of a window, but of the light that this small window lets in every day.
And it guides me, both day and night.
I know, this sentence might seem nonsensical, yet I can assure you there is meaning in it.
#Photography #Photo #Picture #Pic #FensterFreitag #WindowFriday #Reflections #Light
The world is always out there, but we only see it through our windows.
#Photography #Photo #FensterFreitag #WindowFriday #Sea #Italy #Reflections
It’s Hard to Find Answers in a World Full of Noise
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/05/19/it-s-hard-to-find-answers-in-a-world-full-of-noise/
...that all started with the Big Bang
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/04/14/that-all-started-with-the-big-bang/
A door closed, but something stayed. Memories, echoes, and an episode still unwatched.
#Blog #MyNotes #Memory #Reflections #Home #LifeStories #SlowWeb #Nostalgia
Edited 355d ago
No Masks, Just Us
EDIT: I've posted this - that will clarify even more things: https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/10/10/when-bigger-stops-being-better/
I’ve received many reactions to my latest blog post. Some constructive, others critical, but all useful to better understand different perspectives.
However, two recurring dynamics emerged in the comments (mostly outside the Fediverse).
First: I didn’t mention any names. I understand the disappointment, but naming them wouldn’t have helped anyone. Before publishing, I did my homework - that draft had been ready for over a year - and I even asked some of the people involved.
They took action privately to warn friends and colleagues, with good results, but they didn’t want public exposure. Many years have passed, and that company no longer has the same relevance anyway.
Some understood my choice (naming them could have meant serious legal trouble for me), but others started quoting US laws and amendments to "prove" that I could have safely done it. What many don’t realize is that the world isn’t the United States - not everyone plays by the same legal rules. And even if I won such a case, it would still mean wasted time, energy, and peace of mind. Cui prodest?
Second: "Stories like that can only happen in Italy because there are so many small, family-run businesses".
That one annoyed me more - especially because it often came from Italians themselves.
First of all, I’ve worked in several countries, and I never said the story was about an Italian company.
Second, small businesses are not a problem - they’re a strength. My experience taught me that large corporations tend to turn employees into replaceable parts of a giant machine. Customers become faceless numbers, almost subjects rather than clients. At some point, a company’s need for endless growth becomes a trap - not a service that enriches people’s lives, but a "necessary evil".
And that, to me, is the real danger: believing that bigger automatically means better - in tech, and in life.
I wrote about this a few months ago, and I still believe it even more strongly today: https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/06/09/macbook-pro-vs-car-why-small-businesses-still-win/
#ITNotes #BlogPost #TechCulture #SmallBusiness #Writing #Reflections #PersonalThoughts
Edited 176d ago
Make Your Own Kind of Music
The sound of classic rock from a passing bike on a summer evening, and the unexpected bridge it creates between two generations. A quiet reflection on the courage to choose your own music, and your own path.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/08/04/make-your-own-kind-of-music/
Cultural references to symmetries
Here is an example, from a Buddhist manual on meditation:
In the glistening surface of each pearl
are reflected all the other pearls
In each reflection, again are reflected
all the infinitely many other pearls,
So that by this process, reflections
of reflections continue without end.
Source: Physics Through Symmetries by S. G. Rajeev
#symmetry
#reflections
#quotes
The Scent of a Photo
My smartphone just showed me a photo, taken exactly four years ago today. I published it on the Fediverse back then, showing nothing but enthusiasm for the great takeout food we had ordered.
The truth was different.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/28/the-scent-of-a-photo/
#MyNotes #Life #Reflections #Blogging #Memories
My smartphone just showed me a photo, taken exactly four years ago today. I published it on the Fediverse back then, showing nothing but enthusiasm for the great takeout food we had ordered.
The truth was different.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/28/the-scent-of-a-photo/
#MyNotes #Life #Reflections #Blogging #Memories
The Scent of the City
A morning walk through Ferrara becomes a journey through scent and memory - from London coffee to a grandmother's market, from ancient hospital corridors to the unmistakable perfume of fresh bread.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/03/13/the-scent-of-the-city/
The Doctor's Eyes
Curious minds never grow old. Their fear isn't aging, but running out of time to learn.
The Weight of a Millimeter
A distracted driver, a motorcycle crash, and the terrifying wait to see if I would ever walk again.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/02/02/the-weight-of-a-millimeter/
#MyNotes #Blogging #Life #Reflections #Memories #Blogging #WiFi #Hacking
Up, 16 Years Later
A new pair of earbuds triggers a sudden journey back 16 years.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/02/14/up-16-years-later/
#MyNotes #Life#Reflections #Blogging #Memories #LifeLessons
A new pair of earbuds triggers a sudden journey back 16 years.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/02/14/up-16-years-later/
#MyNotes #Life#Reflections #Blogging #Memories #LifeLessons
The Scent of Freedom
A rubber keychain shaped like a foot, a Piaggio Zip, and the sweet, terrifying taste of independence.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/03/02/the-scent-of-freedom/
The Universes Behind the Lights
Photo by Dario Morandotti on Unsplash
A little while ago, I took the clean laundry off the drying rack and opened the drawer. The plan was to fold everything neatly, but I handled it exactly like I did back in my university days: I just dumped everything in a heap, much to my wife’s amusement.
Shortly after, wanting to make myself useful and to quickly escape the "crime scene", I went out to take out the trash. The sky was already dark, with the first signs of frost appearing on the plants. I decided to take the long way around, breathing in that crisp, biting air of a new year.
As I walk in the evening, my eyes are drawn to the lit houses. And in every house, I find myself thinking, there is an entire universe. The universe of the people living there. Their relationships, their pleasures, and their pains. Their affections - often jealously guarded in the warmth of their own homes. Just like their secrets, their valuables, and their memories.
Where do they put their socks? I wonder if they, too, sometimes just toss them in like I did earlier. Maybe someone there is laughing, like my wife. Or maybe someone is starting to yell, as many others would. Or maybe there is silence - a silence worse than laughter or shouting. Is this a season of joy or sadness for them? What are their problems right at this moment? Are they cooking their favorite dish or some tasteless broth? Perhaps they are dreaming of going out to a restaurant tonight. Or, perhaps, they have other things on their minds. Has the new year started well, or are they still carrying the weight of the past year? And I wonder if they will still be there at the end of this year. Or if they will simply still be there, behind those lights, doing the same things they are doing right now. Focused on the same old things - or free, in mind and body, moving toward something new. Maybe folding their socks, absent-mindedly, getting ready for a new workday.
Lost in my thoughts, I run into a neighbor, who tells me about the beautiful evening he had yesterday. He had a clear, bright, happy look in his eyes. His son had come to visit, and they had spent the evening together. He shared his contagious joy with me, and I started walking back home. I looked at those houses again, thinking that they probably do fold their socks - always - maybe while thinking of something else entirely, remembering happy moments or dreaming of running away.
Then I see my own windows, the light on. And I know that behind that light is my wife, listening to her favorite music. And behind the other light is my chair, the one I am about to return to. Behind those walls is the life I have built. My universe.
I close the windows now; it is dark. I wouldn’t want someone passing by to think that I actually tossed my laundry in like that.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/01/the-universes-behind-the-lights/
#Life #MyNotes #Reflections
Photo by Dario Morandotti on Unsplash
A little while ago, I took the clean laundry off the drying rack and opened the drawer. The plan was to fold everything neatly, but I handled it exactly like I did back in my university days: I just dumped everything in a heap, much to my wife’s amusement.
Shortly after, wanting to make myself useful and to quickly escape the "crime scene", I went out to take out the trash. The sky was already dark, with the first signs of frost appearing on the plants. I decided to take the long way around, breathing in that crisp, biting air of a new year.
As I walk in the evening, my eyes are drawn to the lit houses. And in every house, I find myself thinking, there is an entire universe. The universe of the people living there. Their relationships, their pleasures, and their pains. Their affections - often jealously guarded in the warmth of their own homes. Just like their secrets, their valuables, and their memories.
Where do they put their socks? I wonder if they, too, sometimes just toss them in like I did earlier. Maybe someone there is laughing, like my wife. Or maybe someone is starting to yell, as many others would. Or maybe there is silence - a silence worse than laughter or shouting. Is this a season of joy or sadness for them? What are their problems right at this moment? Are they cooking their favorite dish or some tasteless broth? Perhaps they are dreaming of going out to a restaurant tonight. Or, perhaps, they have other things on their minds. Has the new year started well, or are they still carrying the weight of the past year? And I wonder if they will still be there at the end of this year. Or if they will simply still be there, behind those lights, doing the same things they are doing right now. Focused on the same old things - or free, in mind and body, moving toward something new. Maybe folding their socks, absent-mindedly, getting ready for a new workday.
Lost in my thoughts, I run into a neighbor, who tells me about the beautiful evening he had yesterday. He had a clear, bright, happy look in his eyes. His son had come to visit, and they had spent the evening together. He shared his contagious joy with me, and I started walking back home. I looked at those houses again, thinking that they probably do fold their socks - always - maybe while thinking of something else entirely, remembering happy moments or dreaming of running away.
Then I see my own windows, the light on. And I know that behind that light is my wife, listening to her favorite music. And behind the other light is my chair, the one I am about to return to. Behind those walls is the life I have built. My universe.
I close the windows now; it is dark. I wouldn’t want someone passing by to think that I actually tossed my laundry in like that.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/01/the-universes-behind-the-lights/
#Life #MyNotes #Reflections
The Weight of a Millimeter
My lifeboat during recovery: a Linksys WRT54GL and a directional antenna.
I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to my bed. For the first time in days, I had managed to sleep. It was 7 and I was in no hurry to get up, but I no longer felt... I no longer felt the tingling in my legs. I felt nothing.
I fixed my gaze on the photo hanging beside me. The one where I stood leaning against my car, at the Piana di Castelluccio. Standing. I didn't have the courage to try. The moment had arrived - that moment. I wasn't ready. The whirlwind of thoughts continued to envelop me and, as I often do in these cases, my brain told my body to let the thoughts tangle among themselves while I acted. I turned and placed my feet on the ground. I felt the floor beneath me. I stood up. I felt no pain. I tried walking in various directions. I moved. Apart from the back pain, everything from the legs down was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was fine. I sat back on the bed and, finally, managed to cry.
It was a cool but sunny morning in March 2007. I had an appointment at the training center I collaborated with. The goal was to present new courses on Open Source operating systems, focused on Linux and BSDs. The attendees were system administrators expert in other OSs who wanted to approach the open-source world in a systematic, complete, and guided way. I liked it, I liked it a lot, so by 10:15 I was already in the saddle of my trusty Suzuki Burgman scooter. Bologna's traffic, at that hour, was decidedly less intense, but parking a car would have been impossible. Besides, it was a beautiful day; two wheels were undoubtedly the best way to move. I had time, so I planned to enjoy the ride calmly, already thinking about how to present my ideas to the organizers. Smiling, positive, optimistic.
I left the house and put all my documents under the seat, safely stowed. I opened the gate and edged the nose of the scooter out. No cars were coming, so I decided to set off slowly. The limit was 50 km/h, but I had just left, so I was advancing much, much slower. A few meters later, as I was proceeding, I saw something out of the corner of my left eye. Then I felt a blow and lost control of the Burgman. Instinctively, I threw myself off the vehicle, sliding on the asphalt. My gloves, helmet, and jacket completely cushioned the blow, and in a split second, I realized I had made the right choice, without yet understanding what had happened. I was going so slowly that I slid for very little distance; I was already stopped and ready to get up. Before I could even focus, I felt a very strong blow to my back, without feeling any pain. Again, I didn't understand, but I saw the handlebars of the Burgman coming closer right after. Instinctively I stood up, immediately, and turned around.
There was a car, a Fiat Punto, and my scooter near me. The car was trying to maneuver to get around the "obstacle", but I understood immediately, from the damage, that it was a car - that car - that had hit me. I planted myself in the middle of the road and immediately stopped the person behind the wheel, an elderly man - but not too elderly. Meanwhile, some people who had witnessed the scene or heard the noise rushed over. I wasn't alone. He got out of the car and looked at me and the scooter. He only said, "Well, I see you're standing and you haven't hurt yourself, I'd say I can go, right? I'm in a hurry." He wasn't confused. He wasn't trying to pull a fast one. He was just focused on his schedule.
I lost my temper. He only thought about the fact that he "had to leave", and not out of fear or a sense of responsibility. He was distracted. I lashed out, "But didn't you see me coming?" His response, calm and relaxed, froze me: "Of course, but I was in a hurry to get to the bar for my usual card game and I was late. I thought I could squeeze past, I was in a hurry. Anyway, you're standing and the damage seems minimal. I have to go."
No, he wasn't a confused elderly man. He was a person focused on his routine, and this had been just another hindrance. It was him, being himself. I shouted, with the support of the people who had gathered, "No, you're not going anywhere, we're waiting for the Carabinieri." In that moment, fueled by adrenaline, I lifted the Burgman and leaned it against the side of the road. Alone. Immediately after, my vision went almost black, and I had to sit down. A piercing pain in my back which - I realized only then - I had had since the beginning, but the adrenaline was making me ignore. Meanwhile, both the Carabinieri and the Ambulance arrived together. Someone had called them, and they had arrived with some speed.
I got into the ambulance on my own legs, and they examined me immediately. They decided to take me to the hospital for checks, especially for the back pain. Meanwhile, the Carabinieri took their measurements. One of them got into the ambulance. He must have been only a few years older than me and, looking me in the eyes, said words I will never forget: "So much damage, so much pain caused by small distractions, by small things. By our small lives. That man didn't do it on purpose. He is sorry, but he keeps repeating that he was convinced he could get through and keeps emphasizing that 'he couldn't be late'. So much damage, so much pain due to our vices and whims!" A venting from a man who, every day, saw all kinds of things. Yet they were words of comfort. Somehow, this man was bitter for me, sorry. And, probably, in the general confusion, amidst the professionalism of the medical staff and the voyeuristic interest of the passersby, I really needed a contact without barriers.
As soon as he got off, I called the Training Center: "I had a small accident, I won't be able to be there as agreed. Can we postpone by a few days?" They, of course, agreed.
Small accident. I downplayed it. Because, all things considered, I was back on my feet. Because I didn't want to show vulnerability to the client, risking losing this beautiful project. Because, perhaps, I was protecting myself from reality.
When I arrived at the hospital, everyone was extremely kind and diligent. They did all the necessary checks - including an X-ray. And it was precisely that X-ray, suggested by the type of impact and the tingling I felt in my legs and feet, that brought the doctor into my room. There had been a hairline fracture of two vertebrae and, for less than a millimeter, there hadn't been grave, very grave damage. That damage would have caused the total loss of sensation from the pelvis down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but the doctor continued: "We have to monitor the tingling. I believe the problem is linked to the impact, to the effort made immediately after to lift the scooter - suggested by the bruises on both legs - but we are not certain. We have to wait." Confused, I asked what that meant. What we had to wait for. He was vague. At that point, I was myself and went straight to the point: I asked him if I was still risking losing the use of part of my body. He lowered his gaze. He didn't answer. He stayed vague and said that within a few days we would better understand the situation. He focused on the tingling. "It will probably disappear - and at that point, we will understand. If you feel everything normally, it means everything went well. Otherwise..." He said no more. I asked no more. I didn't want to know, at that moment. I kept focusing on the probably. The rest of the sentence, instead, I metabolized in the following hours.
I was just going to present my ideas for my course, on a pleasant early March morning, calmly, on a road I had taken every day for years. With prudence. Building my life, my future. My projects. If I had left 30 seconds earlier - or later... or by car. In that instant, probably, I would have already been on my way back, maybe retrieving the car from a distant parking lot, regretting not having used the Burgman.
I was discharged in the afternoon, with the prescription to get out of bed as little as possible, exclusively to go to the bathroom. There was no way to sleep: I had pain everywhere, my legs had turned completely black. I took a photo in front of the mirror - then deleted it, in the terror of what I had seen. There was no position that didn't give me pain and pangs. I had continuous tingling and little sensitivity from the pelvis down. Problems going to the bathroom, problems doing everything.
They were terrible days, compounded by a further problem. Because of the false promises of a salesperson, I was also left without an Internet connection. But necessity is the mother of invention, and the discovery that a directional antenna pointed towards the end of the street, where there was an old router with an easily "guessable" WEP password, was like a lifeboat after a shipwreck.
The tingling went on for days, until that morning. The morning I realized I had managed to sleep because I no longer had pain. The "probably" had come true. And it had gone away giving me back, again, my sensitivity.
The doctor confirmed: it was an excellent sign, meaning the healing phase had begun. No serious permanent damage. It would take time, but I would heal.
That day I understood many things - many more than I thought - about myself, about the world around us, and, more specifically, about those around me.
And about the importance of keeping one's access points updated, of course.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/02/02/the-weight-of-a-millimeter/
#Life #MyNotes #Reflections
My lifeboat during recovery: a Linksys WRT54GL and a directional antenna.
I opened my eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to my bed. For the first time in days, I had managed to sleep. It was 7 and I was in no hurry to get up, but I no longer felt... I no longer felt the tingling in my legs. I felt nothing.
I fixed my gaze on the photo hanging beside me. The one where I stood leaning against my car, at the Piana di Castelluccio. Standing. I didn't have the courage to try. The moment had arrived - that moment. I wasn't ready. The whirlwind of thoughts continued to envelop me and, as I often do in these cases, my brain told my body to let the thoughts tangle among themselves while I acted. I turned and placed my feet on the ground. I felt the floor beneath me. I stood up. I felt no pain. I tried walking in various directions. I moved. Apart from the back pain, everything from the legs down was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was fine. I sat back on the bed and, finally, managed to cry.
It was a cool but sunny morning in March 2007. I had an appointment at the training center I collaborated with. The goal was to present new courses on Open Source operating systems, focused on Linux and BSDs. The attendees were system administrators expert in other OSs who wanted to approach the open-source world in a systematic, complete, and guided way. I liked it, I liked it a lot, so by 10:15 I was already in the saddle of my trusty Suzuki Burgman scooter. Bologna's traffic, at that hour, was decidedly less intense, but parking a car would have been impossible. Besides, it was a beautiful day; two wheels were undoubtedly the best way to move. I had time, so I planned to enjoy the ride calmly, already thinking about how to present my ideas to the organizers. Smiling, positive, optimistic.
I left the house and put all my documents under the seat, safely stowed. I opened the gate and edged the nose of the scooter out. No cars were coming, so I decided to set off slowly. The limit was 50 km/h, but I had just left, so I was advancing much, much slower. A few meters later, as I was proceeding, I saw something out of the corner of my left eye. Then I felt a blow and lost control of the Burgman. Instinctively, I threw myself off the vehicle, sliding on the asphalt. My gloves, helmet, and jacket completely cushioned the blow, and in a split second, I realized I had made the right choice, without yet understanding what had happened. I was going so slowly that I slid for very little distance; I was already stopped and ready to get up. Before I could even focus, I felt a very strong blow to my back, without feeling any pain. Again, I didn't understand, but I saw the handlebars of the Burgman coming closer right after. Instinctively I stood up, immediately, and turned around.
There was a car, a Fiat Punto, and my scooter near me. The car was trying to maneuver to get around the "obstacle", but I understood immediately, from the damage, that it was a car - that car - that had hit me. I planted myself in the middle of the road and immediately stopped the person behind the wheel, an elderly man - but not too elderly. Meanwhile, some people who had witnessed the scene or heard the noise rushed over. I wasn't alone. He got out of the car and looked at me and the scooter. He only said, "Well, I see you're standing and you haven't hurt yourself, I'd say I can go, right? I'm in a hurry." He wasn't confused. He wasn't trying to pull a fast one. He was just focused on his schedule.
I lost my temper. He only thought about the fact that he "had to leave", and not out of fear or a sense of responsibility. He was distracted. I lashed out, "But didn't you see me coming?" His response, calm and relaxed, froze me: "Of course, but I was in a hurry to get to the bar for my usual card game and I was late. I thought I could squeeze past, I was in a hurry. Anyway, you're standing and the damage seems minimal. I have to go."
No, he wasn't a confused elderly man. He was a person focused on his routine, and this had been just another hindrance. It was him, being himself. I shouted, with the support of the people who had gathered, "No, you're not going anywhere, we're waiting for the Carabinieri." In that moment, fueled by adrenaline, I lifted the Burgman and leaned it against the side of the road. Alone. Immediately after, my vision went almost black, and I had to sit down. A piercing pain in my back which - I realized only then - I had had since the beginning, but the adrenaline was making me ignore. Meanwhile, both the Carabinieri and the Ambulance arrived together. Someone had called them, and they had arrived with some speed.
I got into the ambulance on my own legs, and they examined me immediately. They decided to take me to the hospital for checks, especially for the back pain. Meanwhile, the Carabinieri took their measurements. One of them got into the ambulance. He must have been only a few years older than me and, looking me in the eyes, said words I will never forget: "So much damage, so much pain caused by small distractions, by small things. By our small lives. That man didn't do it on purpose. He is sorry, but he keeps repeating that he was convinced he could get through and keeps emphasizing that 'he couldn't be late'. So much damage, so much pain due to our vices and whims!" A venting from a man who, every day, saw all kinds of things. Yet they were words of comfort. Somehow, this man was bitter for me, sorry. And, probably, in the general confusion, amidst the professionalism of the medical staff and the voyeuristic interest of the passersby, I really needed a contact without barriers.
As soon as he got off, I called the Training Center: "I had a small accident, I won't be able to be there as agreed. Can we postpone by a few days?" They, of course, agreed.
Small accident. I downplayed it. Because, all things considered, I was back on my feet. Because I didn't want to show vulnerability to the client, risking losing this beautiful project. Because, perhaps, I was protecting myself from reality.
When I arrived at the hospital, everyone was extremely kind and diligent. They did all the necessary checks - including an X-ray. And it was precisely that X-ray, suggested by the type of impact and the tingling I felt in my legs and feet, that brought the doctor into my room. There had been a hairline fracture of two vertebrae and, for less than a millimeter, there hadn't been grave, very grave damage. That damage would have caused the total loss of sensation from the pelvis down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but the doctor continued: "We have to monitor the tingling. I believe the problem is linked to the impact, to the effort made immediately after to lift the scooter - suggested by the bruises on both legs - but we are not certain. We have to wait." Confused, I asked what that meant. What we had to wait for. He was vague. At that point, I was myself and went straight to the point: I asked him if I was still risking losing the use of part of my body. He lowered his gaze. He didn't answer. He stayed vague and said that within a few days we would better understand the situation. He focused on the tingling. "It will probably disappear - and at that point, we will understand. If you feel everything normally, it means everything went well. Otherwise..." He said no more. I asked no more. I didn't want to know, at that moment. I kept focusing on the probably. The rest of the sentence, instead, I metabolized in the following hours.
I was just going to present my ideas for my course, on a pleasant early March morning, calmly, on a road I had taken every day for years. With prudence. Building my life, my future. My projects. If I had left 30 seconds earlier - or later... or by car. In that instant, probably, I would have already been on my way back, maybe retrieving the car from a distant parking lot, regretting not having used the Burgman.
I was discharged in the afternoon, with the prescription to get out of bed as little as possible, exclusively to go to the bathroom. There was no way to sleep: I had pain everywhere, my legs had turned completely black. I took a photo in front of the mirror - then deleted it, in the terror of what I had seen. There was no position that didn't give me pain and pangs. I had continuous tingling and little sensitivity from the pelvis down. Problems going to the bathroom, problems doing everything.
They were terrible days, compounded by a further problem. Because of the false promises of a salesperson, I was also left without an Internet connection. But necessity is the mother of invention, and the discovery that a directional antenna pointed towards the end of the street, where there was an old router with an easily "guessable" WEP password, was like a lifeboat after a shipwreck.
The tingling went on for days, until that morning. The morning I realized I had managed to sleep because I no longer had pain. The "probably" had come true. And it had gone away giving me back, again, my sensitivity.
The doctor confirmed: it was an excellent sign, meaning the healing phase had begun. No serious permanent damage. It would take time, but I would heal.
That day I understood many things - many more than I thought - about myself, about the world around us, and, more specifically, about those around me.
And about the importance of keeping one's access points updated, of course.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/02/02/the-weight-of-a-millimeter/
#Life #MyNotes #Reflections
The Rubble of Memory
A fleeting glimpse of a car on the highway sparks a journey back in time, a reflection on youth, lost dreams, and the powerful, deceptive nature of memory.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/10/27/the-rubble-of-memory/
Edited 159d ago
I’ve taken many shots like this, every year, with the same subject and in the same place. Yet I’m still fascinated by this perspective.
This one is from just a few hours ago: the sunset and the "fragile" flower. A breath of wind will be enough, and the flower, as we see it, will vanish. Yet it will be everywhere, spreading itself across the world.
There it stands, swaying in the gentle air and the soft warmth of a November sunset, defying whatever happens around it.
No yesterday, no tomorrow - just here, now, basking in this poetic light.
And life, silently, flows on.
#Photography #Photo #Pic #Sunset #Italy #Italia #Autumn #Fall #Reflections #NaturePhotography #Nature #Life
Just an Old Sign
The waiting room was full, but a forgotten sign made me feel suddenly alone. Revisiting a moment when life happened all at once, leaving marks that took time to heal.
What If I Were Twenty Again? Thoughts on My 46th Birthday
Turning 46 triggers a question: would I go back to being twenty?
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/12/19/what-if-i-were-twenty-again-thoughts-on-my-46th-birthday/
The Universes Behind the Lights
A small domestic crime, a cold night walk, and the mind starts to wander...
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/01/the-universes-behind-the-lights/
#MyNotes #Blogging #FirstPostOfTheYear #PersonalReflections #Reflections #Life #People
A small domestic crime, a cold night walk, and the mind starts to wander...
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/01/the-universes-behind-the-lights/
#MyNotes #Blogging #FirstPostOfTheYear #PersonalReflections #Reflections #Life #People
The Virtue of Finished Things
An email asking if my software was abandoned made me realize how the ideal of completeness has disappeared from our lives. In an era of mandatory updates and disposable goods, I reflect on the value of boring software - the kind that is finished, reliable, and simply does its job.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/06/the-virtue-of-finished-things/
#MyNotes #World #Reflections #IT #Life #Blogging
An email asking if my software was abandoned made me realize how the ideal of completeness has disappeared from our lives. In an era of mandatory updates and disposable goods, I reflect on the value of boring software - the kind that is finished, reliable, and simply does its job.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/06/the-virtue-of-finished-things/
#MyNotes #World #Reflections #IT #Life #Blogging
Edited 87d ago
The Virtue of Finished Things
An email asking if my software was abandoned made me realize how the ideal of completeness has disappeared from our lives. In an era of mandatory updates and disposable goods, I reflect on the value of boring software - the kind that is finished, reliable, and simply does its job.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2026/01/06/the-virtue-of-finished-things/