A few years ago I collaborated with anti-violence centers, where women who suffer from domestic violence are welcomed to work through their trauma and become aware of what they have experienced in the home. In these centers I have heard the stories of women, always very sad stories, and the thing that struck me most was the thought of these women who were trying to make their husband-monster a man, a prince. They suffered for many years because they were convinced that sooner or later he would change and they believed in the tale of Beauty and the Beast in which he becomes a prince. 

Every woman I spoke to had this belief that she could free her man from that angry beast he had inside of him. But the result was that the man continued to be a monster, beating both her and the children. Unfortunately it is a common theme in many fairy tales, films and even novels, that of a criminal man, or monster, or villain, who is then changed into a prince by a woman, often known by chance. Thus many fairy tales, heard by little girls, become obsessions in the minds of women who seek in their monster the charming prince, who will never reveal himself. This belief in fairy tales, in certain myths given by films (such as the most recent good vampire Eduard Callen, and even the cruel Nigan of Walking Dead) make one think that any man or person deviated on a pathological level, can turn into a splendid prince or the good samaritan.

Unfortunately for those who know very well the existence of psychopathy this change is truly impossible unless you experience an event so traumatic that it completely changes your inner core. But by traumatic event I don't mean a love, a love story or something romantic, because let's not forget that the psychopath is anaffective. So the tale that the monster falls in love and becomes good, talented and affectionate is misleading and even harmful. Unfortunately, there have often been fairy tales that women learned as children and that made them grow up with the wrong idea about men. The idea that love saves everyone. The idea that a savior always comes. The idea that a magician intervenes to do a magic that can solve all problems. The idea that a princess alone cannot fight and needs a man next to her to live and face life's problems. 

These and other messages have been transmitted by many fairy tales, films, novels that are read, seen and received by women who often find themselves in bad situations and who dream of being able to solve them in that wrong way.
So even if the wolf disguises himself as a grandmother, he eventually eats the little girl. And there will never be a hunter who opens the wolf's belly to save the child from death. Therefore, girls must be educated never to believe that a wolf, in this case a bad man, can suddenly become good. Because this type of dream and fairy tales is harmful both for herself and for her children. 

In fact, in the meantime that the woman dreams of this change, the husband-monster, has already destroyed her self-esteem, the healthy growth of the children, and dominates the house like a tyrant and in addition uses verbal and physical violence. So we tell women to stop believing in fairy tales, movies and all those products created specifically to convey messages that do not help women at all to become aware of their condition and act in the right way.



In a world that uses techniques, where the strongest wins, where photos are posted to appear happy so as to make others envious, where you have to hold a glass of alcohol in your hands to look interesting, where a naked butt wins instead of the honey … I SAY NO. I keep all my frailty, shiny eyes, pain and fatigue. We are living in the century where sex is free and love costs money, where losing your phone is worse than losing your values. Where smoking and drinking is fashionable and if you don’t, you are old Where men cheat on women with girls and women if they don’t cheat, it is because they fear being caught. Where the bathroom has become a photo studio. Where women fear pregnancy more than HIV. Where the pizza delivery service arrives before the ambulance. Where clothes decide a person’s value and having money is more important than having friends or even a family. Where children are able to give up their parents for their virtual “love”. Where men just want relationships without obligations Where love is a game and you only survive if you play with reason, and you are destroyed if you act with the heart.


The time I gathered your clothes

while you were swimming in the lake and I was trying

to dissuade you, the waters muddy

and the wind blowing on the surface

and it brought me a faint scent

of your breath, I have not found

the simple courage to undress

and to follow you, I have always been

by all the lakes to wait.

Because the lake brings life down, it attracts me

as if the liquid stream was there just for me.

And my love stops me from dying in that part of the lake

where I'm not basically like you.


How many times have you heard of a husband or boyfriend who sacrificed his career for his partner? How many times have you heard that a man copied his wife’s stories or poems at night? How many men do you know who have helped a woman to make a career, to get to the top, to become someone? Tell me one name of a man! Who are these men who gave up their lives to make her take flight? Could she make it to the finish line? please give me some names. Because there are thousands and millions of women who have done this, but no one comes to mind. Indeed, men are usually the ones who hate that women can go ahead and do something for themselves. Men want them and their family and children and the house and the kitchen to be first and then more. Who are these men who said to their partners: “Leave everything alone and go, I’ll take care of it here”? Have you read it in what blog? Let me know. Women have always sacrificed themselves in everything for men, in the name of love, and they should kill this love, since in the end they do not get anywhere and often remain fooled by that feeling It is said that behind a great man there is a great woman. But behind a great woman there is no one because no man ever renounces himself, neither for love nor for anything else. And tell me some names that prove the opposite!


We are little flowers that are not seen,
we don’t have sparkling makeup,
gorgeous dresses.
We are simple flowers,
little souls in the midst of life.
Tiny breaths of a moment of infinity.
We are small flowers that grow asking for nothing.
It is enough for us to have the sky above and the earth below us.
Have you ever stopped to observe the wildflowers? Have you ever reflected on the beauty of colors, their shades which not even the most daring painter would be able to reproduce? In their apparent simplicity, wildflowers hide a great pride, a strength and a determination that leads them to stand up among others without anyone having asked for it, without anyone having sown, watered, wanted them. I admire them for their tender beauty, their colors and their spontaneity. Simple and yet each of them to see well is perfect and wonderful in his being. Sometimes I feel like wildflowers, one among many, simple, but with that simplicity that hides a strength that only those who want to look beyond appearances can find. Fair and modest like wildflowers. Shy yet sure of her own worth like wildflowers.
Have you ever appreciated the beauty of a wild flower? I love them. They don’t have a well-kept garden where they can show off their beauty. They have no loving hands that take care of them. They don’t have a long life to be admired. They grow in inaccessible places and bend to the elements of time. But they are tenacious, bold. And on their slender stem they will blossom again in spite of those who do not find them beautiful and those who are unable to appreciate their scent. Isn’t that a nice way to describe women? Women who, like a wildflower, always show everyone the strength to be reborn after one or a thousand difficulties.



I don't want to advertise a site that allows women, and a few men, to sell nude photos or parts of themselves that are paid a lot of money by followers.
I learned about this online prostitution a short time ago and I learned of really huge amounts that are obtained from this commodification of the human body. I was shocked because once again it is sex that makes money. Sex is required by many men. It is the men who buy those photos, it is they who demand to see more and more. to see certain poses, certain parts of the body. So there are many girls, even very young ones, who sell photos of this type. So what is the use of female independence if the female body is still sold to earn money? Sure, these girls aren't on the streets, they're not in danger, but they're on a screen, and men continue to use them for their pleasure. Girls who should have understood that life is not only made of beautiful clothes and jewelry but who demonstrate that they have a brain deviated from this society that does its utmost to make you think that earning money with sex is now a normal thing and who does not do it is considered stupid. You who speak of God here, maybe your daughters are selling themselves and you don't know it. There are a lot of schoolgirls selling photos, even mothers, young boys. It is something that I think is really harmful to the image of the woman and yet men continue to be and always want the same things from a woman, that is, her body and that's it.


I don't like Loki, I don't like Thor either. I like Captain America and Ironman. I don't like psychopaths, I dealt with a psychopath years ago and that was enough for me. Eliminated. So whoever goes after assholes and gets treated as a doormat is a masochist. And I'm not just referring to women, since there are so many "assholes" who get whipped, trampled and even sodomized. So these assholes, who play the part of the asshole, in a perfect way, keeping many desperate and in love women on the wire, in their privacy they are on their knees and are used by paying Mistresses who humiliate and torture them in a thousand ways. But these things cannot be written in the official newspapers. These things girlfriends don't have to know. They all have to think they are dealing with asshole men. But when they don't spin you it's not because they don't like you but because they want perverse erotic practices. So they go to pay professional sadistic prostitutes who do painful things to them that satisfy them. So while many of you girls sigh and dream of romantic loves, meanwhile they are there with the one who whips them and tramples them and makes them pay huge sums to have the pain that they are experiencing. So they are not assholes but just worms and should be treated as such.


I know I’m not always the best of the best. Often being paranoid and heavy. I have a thousand doubts and a thousand insecurities, I ask a thousand questions and the answers are not always certainties. I would like to live without thinking about the time that passes and the fear of not having lived every moment of this life long enough. I worry too much about the future given my past which alas will always leverage my present. It is that certain things you do not forget, certain things you carry them inside and the signs remain on you. They can be read in your eyes and feel under your hand with every caress that you find it hard to find sincere. After a hug you always expect a stab, and after a smile you are afraid that something will replace it with tears or silent screams. I learned not to let others hear me because to hear they hear, it is to listen that they do not listen. Just as when they stare at you, they see you but don’t look at you. It would take patience with me, but patience is a virtue that not everyone has, and besides, with someone like me, I would lose it too.
Cracks have opened within us. Everyone is an unsinkable ship at first. Then some things happen to us: people who leave us, who don’t love us, who don’t understand us or whom we don’t understand, and we get lost, we make mistakes, we hurt each other. And the hull begins to crack. And when it breaks there is nothing to be done, the end is inevitable. However, there is a lot of time between when the cracks start to form and when we fall apart. And it is only in those moments that we can see ourselves, because we see outside ourselves, through our cracks and into others through theirs. Once the hull falls apart, however, the light enters. And goes out.


13 years ago the red shoes worn by Judy Garland in the film The Wizard of Oz in 1939 were stolen, the curator of the Judy Garland Museum in Gran Rapids in Minnesota (the hometown of the unforgettable Dorothy, ed) fainted and hoped until the last that it was a joke. Instead it was all true. The sequin-covered red slippers (of which six more are believed to exist in the world), owned by film memorabilia collector Michael Shaw and exceptionally loaned to the Museum, had disappeared. For real.
Red shoes. An immediate, powerful symbol. An effective glance. The red color symbolizes violence, evil, the blood shed by many women all over the world. And at the same time it is the color of love, of passion that turns into evil. Each pair of shoes bears the name of a woman killed by a man.
Red shoes have always been considered the symbol of a woman's delicacy, charm and elegance. Characteristics that every woman has wanted or would like to express freely and without constraints. However, every day those shoes are cruelly torn from the foot of those who would have liked to wear them.
November 25, International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. Many Italian squares welcome hundreds of red shoes.

The silent march of the red shoes has become a symbol of protest and information around the world.

The empty shoes scream all the agony, the shame, the fears and the condemnation of those who have finally decided to say ENOUGH.

The red shoes thus take on a new symbolic value on this occasion. They stand as the banner of a silent but determined fight against all forms of attack against women.
The Zapatos Rojos were born as a public art project by the Mexican artist Elina Chauvet. Which in 2009 exhibited her installation of 33 red shoes in Ciudad Juárez. This is the city where the femicide rate is so high that it is called "the city that kills women".

The Mexican Elina Chauvet, with this great project has transmitted a strong feeling of reality, of pain but also of strength. He has created a method to denounce and shout to the world the horror that femicide carries out almost daily and the willpower to denounce in order to be reborn.

An expanse of strictly red shoes that identify the number of violence, deaths and mistreatment that women have suffered in their lives.
In 1999, the UN General Assembly chose the date of April 25 in memory of the brutal murder in 1960 of the three Mirabal sisters, considered an example of revolutionary women for the commitment with which they tried to oppose the regime of Rafael Leónidas Trujillo (1930 -1961), the dictator who kept the Dominican Republic in backwardness and chaos for over 30 years. On November 25, 1960, the Mirabal sisters were blocked on the road by agents of the Military Intelligence Service as they were on their way to visit their husbands in prison. Taken to a hidden place nearby, they were tortured, beaten with sticks and strangled, only to be thrown over a precipice in their car to simulate an accident.
Since the beginning of the year, 116 women have already been killed in Italy, most of them dead at the hands of husbands or partners. One death every three days, according to the EURES. 
Male violence against women is neither a private fact nor an emergency but a structural and transversal phenomenon of our society, a political fact of the first magnitude that has its roots in the inequality of power between the sexes. Austerity policies and reforms such as those of work and school, in continuity with what has happened in the last ten years, do nothing but undermine the paths of autonomy of women and deepen social, cultural and sexual discrimination.


I thank you for your closeness and your support. I believe that our freedom will never go back to the way it was before and that now we are the only ones left who know what it is. I see people very happy to be slaves. I see that everyone watches TV and believes in the mass media, they are manipulated and diverted. The dark mind is now mush. I am very sad and in the past I was an artist but now I am dying. I had an art blog with my paintings, I didn’t sell anything, I gave them away. I said that if nobody wanted them I would burn them. I have no real friends here, I didn’t know who to give them to. I wanted to leave them on the street but there was the covid and they would have thrown them away. I said I was missing, that I would burn them, and nobody told me anything. Nobody cared about what I created. I studied art in London, I refused recommendations, I refused a career. I regretted it. One day I wrote to a psychologist who had an association, I told him: “I give you my paintings, they are 50, you sell them and use the money for sick children”. Do you know what he answered me? “You are not famous, you do not get anything out of your paintings.” I regret having rejected my career. And so I burned all my paintings. My artistic blog no longer exists and there are few paintings left in my attic, eaten by mice.
I had a blog with 3000 followers. I said very interesting and important things but people weren't there. There were a lot of them but none of them spoke. I was really disappointed. I wrote very important things but somehow there was no dialogue between them and me. This made me very sad and one day I deleted everything, I deleted the entire blog. These 3,000 people got lost. I don't know if they still exist, I don't know if they looked for me, because I also changed my nickname because I wanted to close with the past, I wanted a new page in my life. But I believe that past has remained and always remains glued to me like a dark shadow.
I was very sorry to close that blog but maybe people didn't expect a woman to talk about certain things. I didn't talk about nails and I didn't talk about actors, not even about cooking, or about many other subjects that women love. I don't regret what I did but a piece of my life has been lost, destroyed, erased.

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