Fermi alle Tre

I pictured a city street at three in the morning.

Not an empty city, but one where there's still some movement. Lights reflecting in the windows of buildings, an occasional car passing by, and music still playing somewhere nearby.

In the middle of all this are two people who could simply say goodbye and go home. Instead, they stay.

Nothing particularly dramatic happens. No grand declaration, no cinematic kiss, no promises. Just a hand brushing against an arm almost by accident, and a look that suggests something has changed.

Those few seconds were what interested me most.

Songs often tell us what happens before two people meet, or what happens when a relationship comes to an end. This time, I wanted to stop somewhere in between, when almost nothing has happened yet, but you can already sense that something might.

That's also where the title comes from: “Fermi alle tre”, frozen at three.

The clock keeps ticking, cars keep passing, and music keeps playing. But the two characters seem to remain suspended in the same moment.

And there's one thing I particularly like about this story: we don't know what happens at four.

Maybe they'll say goodbye and never see each other again. Or perhaps that night will turn out to be the beginning of something.

I preferred not to tell that part.

The song ends exactly where I wanted it to remain: in that particular moment, at three in the morning.