In life sometimes events follow one another without giving you a chance to breath.

The news of my partner’s pregnancy; a mourning that has deeply affected us; the inability to receive a hug from friends and relatives; Italy, and the whole world, paralyzed by a pandemic.

So came the need to breathe, to return to the place where I grew up, which has always represented a safe haven, a happy island, immersed in an unreal tranquility, just a few kilometres away from the areas most affected by the epidemic.

Cocconato d’Asti, in the hills of Lower Monferrato, Piedmont, here everything seem immersed in a surreal calm.

And it is in this reality, as if suspended in time and space, that “Ballad of Woods and Wounds” was born, a sort of rural ballad, a personal narration of a strange period, which talks about me, my roots, those around me but above all of the tension that pervades our lives.