‘The strength and tenacity of floral delicacy; a dive into the blinding brightness of a voice that decides to shout its independence to the wind; the power of a breath that, even if faint, breaks down all barriers; the audacity of a scream at the top of one’s lungs: I’m alive, and nothing will stop me! The familiar air of home on the Ides of March, when the powerful luminous scent of the ritual flowers given to my wife and my two little girls for the March 8th holiday, in tune with all the familiar scents, welcomes me joyfully filling my nostrils, and enveloping me warmly in a reassuring embrace, whispers softly in my ear “Welcome home”.’ – Claudio Zucca
