I was born on September 25th, 1986, in southern Italy, in Puglia.
I was born in a place where time moves slowly, where the streets are filled with the smell of food at any hour of the day, where “the sea sparkles and the wind blows strong,” as Lucio Dalla would say.

I grew up in a quiet town—perhaps too quiet.

During my childhood, playtime meant the town square.

I was fourteen years old and had never truly encountered art in any of its forms.
Then one evening, almost by chance, I walked into the small cinema-theatre of my town.

I witnessed my first theatrical performance.

It was like love at first sight.

I immediately knew that was what I wanted to do.

My family was always hostile to any form of art—and, in a way, to the life I longed for.

But the more resistance I faced, the stronger this passion grew inside me.
So, at just fourteen, I enrolled in my first theatre workshop.

After graduating from classical high school, I “moved” to Rome in search of opportunity.

I stayed there for ten years, working as an actress with several theatre companies, while also taking on all kinds of jobs just to afford the cost of living.

Then one day, I decided to change everything.

I read a short story that asked a simple yet powerful question:
“If you were to leave for a long journey, what would you carry in your backpack?”

I thought about it for a long time.

In the end, I chose to leave everything behind: the small jobs that gave me a sense of security, the house I lived in, the objects I had collected over time.

I gave almost everything away—clothes, furniture, memories—and left with a backpack and a suitcase, heading to China.

Over three years, I lived and traveled through China, Thailand, Egypt, Israel, Turkey, and several European countries. I saw more of the world in that time than in my entire life before.

In my suitcase, I carried only the essentials to work and sustain my journey: a few puppets and a small battery-powered speaker, to perform on the street or wherever I could.

I had decided to leave everything behind and start over.
But this time, I had to begin with myself.

That is how the project of a puppet in my own likeness was born—because it was from myself that I needed to start again.

And so I did.

From that moment, my sweet Nina was born.

My work taught me a great deal. I learned to look within, to recognize myself, to understand that freedom comes at a high cost, and that my happiness depends on my courage.

And to choose this life…
you need courage.

A lot of it.