I lost my faith quite politely. No slammed doors, no atheist manifesto pinned to the kitchen wall. God had not become my enemy. He had simply stopped being necessary.
Absence is convenient because it leaves a great deal of room. You can fill it with work, projects, music, ambition, and the modern discipline of always looking busy with something important. For a while, it worked.
God’s absence had not made me free. It had left me alone with a desire too large for everything I could achieve.
In 2016 that fracture became harder to cover. It was not a spectacular crisis. It was worse: a growing restlessness inside a life that, from the outside, had no serious reason to be restless.
In 2018 I arrived at the Ten Words journey led by Fr Mauro Bozzola in San Giovanni Lupatoto. I did not arrive as a well-equipped pilgrim. More as someone who had tried enough detours to suspect that perhaps the road was not the problem.
Week after week, those words began to read me. They uncovered fears, well-dressed idols, the need for control, and the image of a God who competed with my freedom.
I thought I was looking for God. Faith was reborn when I recognised that He was looking for me.
Cerco Te was born inside this awareness. The title seems to describe my movement towards God. In fact, it holds the reversal that brought me back to life: I could look for Him because I was already being sought.
That experience became Qoelet’s first EP in 2021. Not a certificate of a successful conversion, but a fragile attempt to turn into sound what had happened: the search, abandonment, praise, and the experience of being reached.
The Adige keeps flowing behind houses, roads and warehouses. It does not look like the scenery for a spiritual rebirth. Perhaps that is precisely the point: Christ does not wait until the setting is worthy of Him. I am still searching — but no longer alone, and no longer first.