Cuore rhymes with amore

Cuore rhymes with amore, crazy heart… it slips everywhere, songs and movies, fills instagram,
Give me three words / Amore, fiore, cuore / Give me a kiss that doesn’t make you talk / It’s love that wants you… The heart is a metaphor, it’s half of life, it’s half of everything, it’s a final destination… it’s almost impossible to read all the nonsense written on the heart without someone hitting us in the heart and making us jump like an extrasystole at the end of a race. Someone had thought of a cure for sludge pile pages, he said, we should abolish love from all poems, songs, we would avoid silly metaphors. But what if we put our hearts everywhere? Like earrings to better hear the love, hanging from the neck, on the breast, because it beats in symbiosis with our heart. On the fingers as a caresses activator. Small, large silver hearts, many cuore to rhyme with amore, fiore…crazy italians…
Stop laughing Valentine’s Day is coming !!!

All colors of Valentine

There are already less than a thousand kisses to Valentine’s Day and we are still here insecure about a million things. For example, what are the colors of love?
What is fuchsia?
Is red means love?
They say so!
They say so? At least one certainty please!
And yellow?
Even no! Why ever? The color of the sun!
What about purple?
Yes, at least there is no doubt on this.
Light blue?
Calm, tranquility, silence, deep satisfaction.
Of course, comes after purple!:-)
We choose the colors that our partner likes, the ones that suit them best, on the skin,on the hair, on the eyes, the colors they love to wear.
Rainbow jewels by Pittiesisi, rings, earrings and pendants in different sizes with blue, purple, smoky, green and cognac quartz.
Remembering that if Valentine’s Day is the feast of lovers, all the other days of the year are perfect for gestures of love to be repeated endlessly with many small surprises.

When Moon’s at full

When Moon’s at full
‘Tis Thou – I say
My lips just hold the name
When crescent – Thou art worn
I note – But – there
the Golden Same
How many poets has the moon inspired besides Emily Dickinson.
How many? How many pop singers, painters, choreographers…
Symbol of change, a magical and powerful sign of life, of feminine beauty, of charm. Magnificent silver splendor that is reflected in the Pittiesisi asymmetrical earrings. 


Love is as trite as a poem heard thousand times, like a song that always rhymes with heart, like all foolish gifts for lovers, like the thousand hearts that take shape everywhere, engraved, drawn, breathed or just thought. Hearts of boys and girls and young old people who are still stringing each other hands. Kisses, caresses, gasps that can’t wait for Valentine’s Day, that are in a hurry for lips, eyes, skin and dreams made true every day with a thousand gifts, hearts and stars, thoughts, games, symbols engraved on the arms, on the hands looking for the soft warmth of the usual words…

Les enfants qui s’aiment s’embrassent debout
Contre les portes de la nuit
Et les passants qui passent les désignent du doigt
Mais les enfants qui s’aiment
Ne sont là pour personne
Et c’est seulement leur ombre
Qui tremble dans la nuit
Excitant la rage des passants
Leur rage leur mépris leurs rires et leur envie
Les enfants qui s’aiment ne sont là pour personne
Ils sont alleurs bien plus loin que la nuit
Bien plus haut que le jour
Dans l’éblouissante clarté de leur premier amour.

Jacques Prevert

Christmas letter

My Christmas letter? Memories of a child… Expectation, surprise, emotion, colored shapes, rigorous black, red, white boxes, blush shades and stars… shiny ribbons, scents of wood and snow, soft lights of flickering candles, fires, holograms and laser blades… Shouldn’t we give ourselves nothing? Just a thought you said holding me so tight that almost hurts. I am writing you my Christmas letter again this year! A thought for the new year… and it’s already Valentine’s Day, and my birthday, and summer… Just a thought! Last year’s rainbow was more beautiful than the one you gave me for our first Christmas together. How many years have been past? Do you still remember how I’ve got crazy?! How many colors we’ve  changed?! Then I wanted the whole collection! This year just a thought… like every year. A thought for every caress, for every kiss, for all your silences and for my laughter, for every forbidden moment, for our hands… Just a thought at Christmas and then… you know…

The beauty of a woman…

“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows & the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.”

(Audrey Hepburn)

Hello beautiful!

A classic beauty

Adorn yourself, characterize your image, send signals with your body is the most direct way to communicate. Clothes, tattoos, hairstyles, accessories, jewels are writing tools like words, looks, smiles.
She wore a golden magic on which adoring glances, lights, sudden shadows, flashes reflected themselves… Earrings, rings and pendants with classic and strong geometries at the same time, almost transgressive. Perfect, simply beautiful with nothing to add, it make you think of the beauty of the fornarine, of the gioconde, of the veiled women painted five hundred years ago. Dressed in simplicity and fantasy, she moved like a wave of transparent and colored light…

The light of Venice

There are days in late November were the sun in Venice is so hot, intense and bright that it seems to last forever. The stones at the Zattere are white and warm that makes you feel like stretching out until you touch the water with your fingers full of rings of colored stones. The light bounces off the water and amplifies the colors that draw purplish, green, orange reflections, semi-transparent shadows as if it were colored smoke that stretches between the fingers and draws round swirls on the skin, on the memories of the Istrian stone slabs that are not there. they are more, on the little waves that break so close. The same lights, the same colors that dye the hair and cheekbones from the earrings, shadows that mark the face and redesign the mouth. In a moment everything becomes more yellow, the sun gives a flash before going down in the lagoon and freezing the air, the light and the colors. There remain the blue-green and blue-green reflections of the rings between the fingers that quickly fade into the dark to warm the cold night, promising another summer.

In Venice every gift becomes a memory

…every emotion is stronger, all smiles are as big as the sky above the lagoon. Laughter, looks, thoughts, caresses, kisses… even your grimaces, your games leave marks on the skin, indelible, precious tattoos, jewels that your gestures confuse with the reflections of the water. The rings become circles of light, gothic vitrage the shiny stones, long waves replicate the curves on which your necklaces play, the same ones designed by the hair that conceal and show flashes from your earrings lucky to be so close… so close as to whisper you all the stories of travelers suspended in to the golden city light. Venice transforms the emotions into its unique light… melancholy already fades behind the wet train windows at the end of the liberty bridge…