middle ages
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Objects, as we know, travel through time. They retain something of us, something we chose to imprint so that our children, our grandchildren, and all those who come after us might understand who we truly were. Sometimes a single book, a line, a signature, a motto… is enough to cry out to the world, centuries
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Gli oggetti, si sa, viaggiano nel tempo. In loro resta sempre qualcosa di noi, qualcosa che abbiamo voluto imprimere affinché i nostri figli, i nipoti e tutti quelli dopo di noi capissero chi davvero fossimo.A volte basta un libro con una frase, con una firma, con un motto… per urlare al mondo, dopo secoli, chi
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If today a doctor told you, “To understand what’s wrong with you, let me examine your urine… under the light of the Moon,” you would probably run for your life. In the Middle Ages, however, not only would you not have been scandalised… you would have considered the request perfectly normal.For centuries, in fact, the
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Every year on October 31st, for the past thirty-six years now (at least in this earthly life of mine), I’ve heard people criticize the day of Samhain, or Halloween as it’s now called, in the most absurd ways imaginable. Some call it an evil day, devoted to the devil; others dismiss it as nothing more
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All my life I’ve heard people say: “What is this, the Middle Ages?” or “It feels like we’ve gone back to the Middle Ages,” whenever they want to comment on something absurd that makes us regress so much we turn into barbarians, puritans, God-fearing souls destined to die of the plague. And every time I
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In collective memory, the name of Cesare Borgia evokes intrigue, crimes, and cruelty. The “black legend” of the Borgias painted him as a Renaissance monster—fascinating and dangerous, capable of killing brothers and betraying allies without remorse. Yet behind this mask of blood and fear lies a cultured, refined man, a talented strategist and visionary politician,
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A few months ago, I wrote about sex toys in the Middle Ages, you can find the article here. Today I’ve chosen to step into the bedrooms of both common people and royals, to show that no matter which century you live in, or where you live, sexuality has always remained the same throughout the
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“Treason! Treason!” These were the last words of Richard III on the battlefield of Bosworth, just before a blow struck him from behind, ending his life at only 32 years of age. In recent weeks I have deliberately chosen not to post anything, as my mind has remained fixed on an event deeply rooted in
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Once upon a time, there was a child, born around 1474 in Brittany, who, after the assassination of Richard III at Bosworth, lived at the court of the new king, Henry VII, as a trusted knight of the Tudors. He died in 1535, leaving behind a trail of whispers that still echo today: who was
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C’era una volta un bambino, nato attorno al 1474 in Bretagna, che, dopo l’assassinio di Riccardo III a Bosworth, visse alla corte del nuovo re, Enrico VII, come cavaliere di fiducia dei Tudor. Morì nel 1535 lasciandosi alle spalle una scia di sussurri che ancora oggi continuano a ripetere: ma chi era Roland de Velville?
Beyond Death 