Giovanni Allevi is an exceptionally talented Italian composer and pianist with international fame, as well as a philosopher and writer, one of those individuals who knows how to amaze and be amazed.
He has performed in the most prestigious theaters, from New York to Beijing, via Tokyo, London, Paris, Madrid, and of course, his Italy. His music has enchanted millions of fans around the world.
Suddenly a terrible and fierce illness forced him to leave the stage, to pause his music to take care of himself. It's been a long journey, with still some climbs to face, but it has brought him back to Sanremo Italian Songs Festival to perform again for the first time in front of his audience after two years.
You can listen to him directly in the video, but reading and re-reading, and reading it again, what he said, I believe, can help when in our daily frenetic frenzy we need to remind ourselves that there's also another perspective.
" 𝘚𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘐𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘴. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 39 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵: 𝘮𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦.
𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴?
🧡 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘰, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺? 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 15 𝘰𝘳 20 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺. 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 15 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘕𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦, 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦.
🧡𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵. 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭.
🧡 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴, 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘧𝘧. 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺.
🧡 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴, 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.
🧡 𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘮. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘒𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴. 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘮. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦? 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘎𝘪𝘰𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪
Then, before approaching the piano, he explains that he has two fractured vertebrae, and trembling and tingling in his fingers.
"I am unable to rely on my body, I will play with all my soul. The piece is titled "Tomorrow." Tomorrow is somewhat an extension of today. Because for all of us, may there always be a brighter day waiting. Thank you"