Maledetta Rabbia

Love that doesn't die simply changes form. In the heat, it turns into a headache, then into melancholy to the sound of the surf, then into a hoarse "basta" on repeat. The car creaks, the cigarette goes out, but the memory doesn't. Even when it seems like everything is over, there's still a concert inside: the feedback of pain from the guitar, the applause of anger, and a verse of regret that just won't end. It seems some feelings are specifically designed to be experienced, not overcome. They tear until they bleed, but they bring you back to life. And even if summer is hateful, the sun stings your eyes, and the sea greets you without a smile, you still go there. Because somewhere between "pain" and "freedom," there's always a quiet, stubborn melody playing, "I still care."