BOOKS | WAVES OF WORDS
There are journeys we take with our feet, others with our breath, and still others with sound.
And then there are those we take with words.
Writing has always been, for me, a natural act, like tuning an instrument before beginning to play. It’s a flow that doesn’t ask for permission: it slips between thoughts, crystallizes into sentences, and expands into entire worlds.
Over the years, I’ve filled notebooks, hard drives, scattered notes lost and found again, visions scribbled in the margins of a score or on the back of an airline ticket. Pages that remained silent for a long time, like notes held before the release of a crescendo.
Today, I have decided to give this material a new breath.
This section is the harbor where those words finally arrive, ready to meet readers and listeners. It is not an orderly library, but an archipelago of narrative islands: visionary novels, stories suspended between science fiction and poetry, reflections born from the fine line between quantum physics and non-dogmatic spirituality, pages that unite the precision of research with the freedom of dreaming.
In my path, I have been a co-author of scientific publications, texts where logic and verification were at the center. But here, in this space, I let the flow guide me, not the proof. Here, the word moves like an ocean current: sometimes calm, sometimes fierce, always able to carry away those who surrender to it.
The first landing of this journey is The Song of The Last Castaways (Il Canto degli Ultimi Naufraghi, Italian version).
A work that for years existed only in my notebooks and my mind, like a secret shared only with myself. It was born from decades of inner explorations, sonic experiments, and cosmic contemplations. It tells the soul’s odyssey through collapsing civilizations and reborn worlds, a song suspended between loss and rebirth.
But it is not only this novel: other texts are emerging, like constellations slowly revealing themselves in the night. Some are lyrical fragments, others visions of possible futures, still others maps of inner journeys. All share the same root: deep listening. Because for me, writing is exactly that, an act of listening, like tuning in to a secret frequency that crosses time and space.
Here, each book is a door.
A door that opens onto an unseen landscape, onto a thought that has been waiting for years to be thought, onto an echo that asks to be heard.
Some of these doors lead to interstellar adventures, others to inner abysses, and still others to territories where science and myth shake hands.
As in my music, I seek harmony, rhythm, resonance. Sentences have pauses and accelerations, silences and reverberations. Sometimes writing is a slow heartbeat, other times a feverish improvisation. In every case, it is always an act of transformation — for me, and for those who read.
If you are reading these lines, I invite you to walk through these pages as one walks through waves: letting yourself be surprised, without immediately asking, “Where will this take me?”
Because perhaps the destination matters less than the resonance that remains.
Welcome to my books.
Or, if you prefer, to my waves of words.