Flip Calvi

Dreamer, Visionary, Artist, Always in Love.

[misterflipdj]

Good morning.

Living abroad teaches you something simple but essential: people read the world through the place they stand. The same event can look local, national or global depending on the horizon you carry with you.

Today, while Italy reflects on its own history, I’m reminded of how different perspectives can coexist without cancelling each other. You don’t need to convince anyone. Sometimes it’s enough to offer a wider angle — one shaped by mobility, by Europe, by the experience of living and working across different cultures.

From London, you see how narratives shift when you change the frame. A city becomes an ecosystem. A country becomes part of a network. And debates that feel polarising from afar often appear more complex up close.

Sharing a point of view is not about changing minds.

It’s about adding depth, context and a sense of scale.

Wherever you are looking from today, I hope your morning brings clarity — even in the middle of that familiar early‑day confusion.

Have a good day.

[misterflipdj]

The sky is grey and the news feels even greyer. Some days the world seems to move in ways that no longer resemble human reason: power shouting over dignity, alliances bending instead of standing, an escalation that presses on the chest more than on the headlines. It’s the quiet frustration of knowing you can’t do much, of watching decisions made far above your head ripple through the lives of ordinary people. And yet, beneath all this noise, there’s a familiar echo — the same instinct that once questioned the blind rush of globalisation, the same clarity that sensed the cracks long before they became fractures. This morning I choose silence over outrage, presence over panic. A cup of tea, a grey sky, and the stubborn belief that lucidity is still a form of resistance. 🙏☕❤️Good morning to those who feel the weight of the world and still refuse to let it harden their heart. God bless you ♥️♥️♥️

[misterflipdj]

[misterflipdj]

There's an evening, every now and then,

when strength settles

and stops making noise.

The mountain you climbed

remains there, behind your back,

but no one sees it.

And then your heart grows heavy,

as if asking:

"And now who's holding me?"

It's not weakness,

it's the body's memory,

it's the ancient desire

for a hand on your forehead,

for a breath close by,

for someone to say softly:

"I know, I saw you."

You who walked alone

on roads that others couldn't have withstood,

you who held the world together

while yours trembled,

you who won mountain stages

without an audience and without applause,

you have the right to stop

and feel everything.

And if tonight hurts,

it's not because you lost.

It's because you're alive.

And because there's still room,

inside you,

for someone who one day

will know how to stay.

[misterflipdj]

🌤️ Buongiorno — in the shadow of a shifting world. Good morning. Today the light feels different. Not because the sky has changed, but because the world has. There are days when the weight of global tensions sits on the chest before the first sip of coffee, and the mind struggles to find its usual clarity. This is one of those mornings.

For months I’ve been building bridges across the Mediterranean — conversations, trust, collaborations with people in Egypt, Palestine, Jordan, Morocco. Work that grows slowly, through respect and patience, not through noise. And yet, when the winds of geopolitics shift, when power changes tone, it suddenly feels as if everything could be swept away in a moment. Not because the relationships weren’t real, but because the world around them becomes unstable.

It’s a strange kind of fatigue: not physical, not even emotional, but civic. A tiredness that comes from watching how easily the work of many can be overshadowed by the decisions of a few. How fragile cooperation becomes when the global stage turns unpredictable. How quickly hope can be interrupted by the return of old postures, old fears, old hierarchies.

This morning I feel that shadow — not a person, not a judgement, just an atmosphere. A reminder that nothing we build is ever completely safe from the world’s turbulence. And yet, the fact that it matters to me means something. It means the work was real. The connections were real. The intention was real.

So my good morning today is quieter, more thoughtful. It’s a reminder that even when the world shakes, the dignity of what we build does not disappear. It waits. It resists. It finds new forms.

I’m walking slowly, with a mind that’s still heavy, but with the same posture: back straight, eyes open. Because hope, in times like these, is not optimism — it’s awareness.

Good morning.

[misterflipdj]

We often talk about post‑partum depression as something that affects only the mother.

But the truth is more complex: it affects the entire structure of a family that is just beginning to form.

Partners, relationships, the fragile balance of a new home — everything is touched by this invisible weight.

Protecting the mother is essential, but we should also acknowledge the impact on the partner and on the early shape of the family itself.

Post‑partum depression doesn’t break individuals.

It breaks connections.

And recognising this is the first step towards supporting everyone involved, not just one part of the story.

[misterflipdj]

Good morning ☕🌹

I slept badly, my head’s pounding, but I’ll win today anyway.

What gets to me are the “caporali” — the ones who confuse arrogance with competence.

The urge to say “do it yourself” is strong, but that’s not my level.

Professionalism is clarity, not submission.

[misterflipdj]

[misterflipdj]

Be Kind — la gentilezza come resistenza urbana

Alle fermate del bus, tra pubblicità e rumore, appare un invito essenziale: Be kind. Due parole che non vendono nulla, non litigano, non impongono. Due parole che ricordano che la città non è solo traffico e fretta, ma anche possibilità di incontro.

La gentilezza è un gesto minimo, ma proprio per questo è rivoluzionario. Non costa nulla, non chiede applausi, eppure cambia il ritmo di una giornata. È un sorriso dato a chi non si aspetta nulla, è un posto ceduto, è un “grazie” che interrompe l’automatismo.

In un tempo che ci spinge a competere e a esporci, Be kind diventa un atto di resistenza: scegliere la cura invece della rivalità, la presenza invece della superficialità. Non è un motto ingenuo, è un manifesto urbano.

[misterflipdj]

The verticality of effort. There are days that weigh on us not because of the amount of work, but because of the verticality of the wall before us. It's not the mass that crushes us, it's the inclination: the feeling of having to climb without any holds, out of breath and with our gaze fixed on a point that seems unattainable. On those days, the choice to stop isn't weakness, but clarity. It's the gesture of the mountaineer who knows that the summit isn't conquered all at once, that stopping is part of the journey. Stopping means acknowledging the limit, breathing, looking at the landscape, regaining energy. The wall remains there, vertical and severe, but our presence transforms: from fatigue to awareness. It's not a surrender, it's an act of dignity. Today I'll stop here, and in this stopping there's already the strength of those who will continue climbing tomorrow. Have a good evening 😘 everyone.

[misterflipdj]

Libertà non è il diritto di esibire, né il permesso di invadere. Non è il selfie col dolore altrui, né il balletto sul confine tra intimità e spettacolo. Libertà è il peso del gesto, il pudore del corpo, la scelta di non ridere quando tutti applaudono. Abbiamo confuso l’autenticità con l’urlo, la presenza con la performance. E intanto i maschi si perdono tra eccessi e complicità, tra virilità da discount e silenzi da branco. Le nuove generazioni non sono colpevoli, ma orfane. Orfane di adulti che abbiano il coraggio di dire: “Questo non è libertà. È smarrimento travestito da diritto.” E mentre si balla sul bordo, qualcuno ha messo un ordigno sotto l’auto di Sigfrido Ranucci. Non è solo un attacco a un giornalista. È un segnale. Il conflitto sociale non è più solo verbale: si fa gesto, si fa intimidazione. E chi indaga, chi racconta, chi non si piega, diventa bersaglio. In un paese dove la libertà è confusa con il diritto di smignottare o minacciare, serve una voce che dica: “Questo non è dissenso. È squadrismo travestito da opinione.” Serve una presenza che non cerchi applausi, ma verità. C’è chi celebra il potere con selfie e sorrisi, ma corre al sindacato quando il contratto vacilla. Non è ipocrisia. È ignoranza travestita da libertà. La scelta estetica ha sostituito la posizione politica. Il like ha preso il posto del pensiero. Disprezzano la politica, ma ne subiscono ogni giorno le conseguenze. Ridono del socialismo, ma chiedono giustizia quando il padrone li sfrutta. Confondono la libertà con il diritto di non pensare. E quando arriva un post che chiede memoria, scelta, postura, scappano. Veloci. Silenziosi. Offesi, forse. Ma la fuga non è neutralità. È complicità travestita da leggerezza. E noi, che ancora scriviamo, non cerchiamo consenso. Cerchiamo presenza.

[misterflipdj]

In the 1980s, we were in our twenties or so. We were unwitting protagonists of an aesthetic and cultural revolution. We discovered Mondrian not in museums, but on a L’Oréal hair gel, with its graphics of primary blocks and black lines. It was pop, it was art, it was accessibility. Music taught us remixing, design spoke to us of identity, architecture showed us that even concrete could have a soul. Today, in the age of AI, those intuitions return in the form of patterns, neural networks, visual generations. But we, who were there, know: elegance is not in the body, it is in the gesture. Culture is not in possession, it is in permeability. And the approach to life we learned then—curious, ironic, radical—is still our way of being in the world. Even if the world has changed. Even if we no longer use gel.

[misterflipdj]

[misterflipdj]

My head is full.

The end of the Cool Sardinia Guide project needs to be written.

Erasmus+, vision, roots, future.

It's not just work.

It's construction. But I'm not complaining.

Not today. Today I celebrate rebirth. The real one.

The one that doesn't need motivational posts or gurus in sweatshirts.

They call it resilience. I call it instinct. It's the human way of not losing one's mind, of not giving up searching for meaning. Being reborn isn't a show. It's choosing to stay,

to write, to build, even when your head feels heavy and the world speaks of something else.

Buongiorno e buon sabato ☕🌹♥️ God bless you ♥️

[misterflipdj]

L’eleganza dell’esigenza

Ci sono giorni in cui il rigore pesa come una giacca troppo stretta.

Non perché sia sbagliato, ma perché il corpo che lo indossa ha danzato troppo, ha ascoltato troppo, ha dato troppo.

Eppure non riesco a smettere.

Non riesco a fingere che “va bene così” quando sento che potrebbe vibrare più a fondo, più vero.

Il mio standard non è una gabbia, è una promessa.

Una promessa che faccio a me stesso, e a chi decide di camminare accanto.

Non pretendo perfezione, pretendo presenza.

Pretendo che ogni nota, ogni parola, ogni gesto abbia il coraggio di essere intero.

E quando non accade, non mi arrabbio—mi ritiro.

Perché la mia energia non è in saldo, e la mia fiducia non è un buffet.

Essere esigenti è un atto d’amore.

Verso il tempo, verso la bellezza, verso chi ha il coraggio di non accontentarsi.

E se questo mi rende “paranoico”, allora che sia.

Preferisco essere stanco per aver cercato il vero, che riposato nell’indifferenza.

[misterflipdj]

This morning, in my ritual confusion, a thought I'd left in Thailand returned to visit me.

It didn't knock. It entered as true memories do: without asking permission, but with respect.

It was the teaching of non-attachment.

Not as escape. Not as coldness.

But as an undemanding presence.

The coffee was there, like every morning.

But today it wasn't there to wake me up.

It was there to summon.

To summon the thought that doesn't want to be held back.

The memory that doesn't ask to be glorified.

The confusion that shouldn't be resolved, but listened to.

> *I don't cling to the thought that visits me in the morning. I let it speak, I let it go.

> It doesn't define me, but passes through me.

> And in that passage, I recognize myself.*

Non-attachment is not the opposite of love.

It is its foundation.

It is loving without possessing.

It's writing without wanting to please.

It's letting go without losing yourself.

And so, again today, I drank my coffee.

Not to wake up.

But to remember that I can be passed through without being invaded.

[misterflipdj]

Everything changes, but nothing changes.

Every summer the curtain rises again: the same voices, the same glances, the same Milanese accent adopted as a social passport.

A boutique saleswoman, but with a Brera-style delivery.

As if an inflection were enough to access an imaginary ethnic group: that of the "cultured," the "righteous," the "belonging."

Then September arrives.

The set is dismantled.

We return to dialect, to silence, to lethargy.

But the script is already ready for next year.

The '70s, the '80s, today.

Time passes, but the ritual remains.

And we, ironic witnesses, resist. Good morning, friends, and curious onlookers, devourers of other people's thoughts and certified judges. God bless you ♥️😘☕🌹🥰