When I was 2 years old, after picking me up from the kindergarten down the street, my grandma would read me the book of Pinocchio. It was like a ritual that would happen every afternoon in order to keep me quiet. I was a precocious and smart little kid (my mom has bragged about this her entire life) and even though I was only 2 years old, I had memorized all of the story by heart and I could turn the pages of the book exactly at the right moment, making everyone believe that I was really reading it (here’s a little audio track to prove it, it’s in Italian but I’m sure you’ll get the sense of it 😉
The book of Pinocchio led to my second favorite book: an illustrated compilation of all Disney’s fairy tales. I still have the original book in my library and I’ve read it so many times throughout my childhood that it’s torn apart. Ever since the early days of my life, I’ve started believing in a fantasy world made of magic creatures and extraordinary adventures.
Later on, my favorite game became stealing clothes from my Mom and my Grandma’s wardrobes, dress up with my friends, invent stories and act out different characters. My Mom and my Grandma were two very elegant women with impeccable taste and sense of style. Opening their closet was like opening a door to an enchanted world where I could find all kind of costumes. One day I could be a princess sailing on a pirate’s vessel in search of a lost treasure, the next day I’d become the captain of a space ship traveling across the universe to fight against evil forces. With objects that I’d find in the house, I’d build the sets, the couch pillows and the bed covers would become props to create a home or a castle. Every day I’d invent a new episode and a new character and each one of my friends would be involved in this story telling game and play a part in it. It was the best time ever and we had so much fun!
As my existence started with stories, I guess that becoming a storyteller was just written in my destiny after all…
’til the next one!