Ilaria Serpi

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” – Martin Luther King

Dear Papillon,

many years ago, driven by curiosity and a certain recklessness, I went to Israel. I saw many things.

It was November, and it was warm — a beautiful kind of warmth, the kind you only get in true in-between seasons. I remember the olive trees and the desert. I remember the strange feeling of floating so easily in the waters of the Dead Sea, and the gazelle that seemed to be waiting for us at dawn among the ruins of the Masada fortress.

I feel emotional, more than I have in a long time over a political outcome (yes, political!).

And for some reason, I find myself thinking of my one-and-a-half-year-old children, who can barely speak yet. Hardly at all. But they make themselves understood, and there’s one thing they say loud and clear: no.

WE

A wave.
I think about waves often. Maybe because, reading a book some time ago, I discovered that the world isn’t made of still things. Maybe our sight deceives us, but reality is constantly in motion; it simply moves on a timescale very different from ours.

There is a thought that crosses my mind at the beginning of every year and knocks on my door. Knock knock! Who is it? It’s me! Who is me? My list of good intentions.
In 2026, I would like to… Eat better, slow down, be more present, change something about myself. A tiny gesture, often fragile and revealing.

It will be November and the days will be short. It will be standard time, which for some reason is the darkest time of year. It will also be the beginning of low clouds and lukewarm hopes that at least the cold will arrive to confirm that time does not pass only for us. It may be that the world spins in endless space, with loves just born, with loves already ended, with the joy and pain of people like me, and it may be that this was Jimmy Fontana.

In recent months, I have often been amazed. Amazement is always a wonderful feeling for me. It helps me come to terms with my mortality, with the fact that I cannot always know things in advance, and it colors reality with a new light.
In recent months, I have been amazed at how many things I have done, from the most involuntary to those done with real intention.

Dear Papillon,
I have seen many butterflies since summer broke out. I have also seen them in places where I thought, “Of course poor things! While you only live for one day you might as well have chosen a better place to spend it instead of the flower beds at Exit 25 of the ring road!”
But what do those know, they don’t know it’s the junction. They are born there and do their best to make the world (even Exit 25) a nicer place.

Dear Papillon,

In correspondence, one usually says: ‘it’s always me’ and I had thought of starting this letter that way. But in this case, that deeper things are at stake, you might ask, “Always?”