growing backwards

 There is a certain discomfort in growing up as a privileged girl in the Italian countryside. A sort of unawareness. A bittersweet certainty that there is more to experience out there. That all the books your parents put under the Christmas tree are just the surface of what the world out there has to offer. A world where you could be whoever you admire. Completely transmuting your personality every day. You close your eyes to become the Amèlie imagined by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, you squeeze your eyelids to evolve in the India drawn by Park Chan-Wook, you furrow your eyebrows to turn into the Claire envisioned by Beau Willimon.

Those are brief moments in an everyday life made of contentment and ataraxis. Moments you somewhat dread and crave at the same time. Still, time flies fast. For the most ambitious, this call coming from the unknown is as sweet as honey, irresistible. So they leave their nest, unknowingly leaving their naivety as well.

Identyfying myself as one of these girls brought me to inquire how common the phenomenon is in the countryside of northern Italy, an area of unperceived economic wellbeing. Teenagers leaving their homes are often unaware of their privileged and shielded status, finding themselves in a traumatic first impact with the "world out there".

Through this series I briefly tip-toe into the life of girls approaching the threshold of adulthood, probing how expectations affect their perception of the future and how relevant this discomfort is to them.

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