Home sweet home. But, which one?

Home is a state of being. It’s a feeling of comfort, of freedom to be yourself. It’s an inclusive environment where you feel understood and safe.

Image made by Jardson Almeida.

I have 3 homes right now, all very far from each other, thousands of miles apart, and all 3 very different. It makes me feel like I am 3 Martas in this world (like 1 Marta wasn’t enough).


I grew up in Sardinia, the most magical place you can think of, where the beach sand is thin and white, where the seawater is 50 shades of green and blue, and where summer lasts 5 months a year.

I’m lucky I got to spend my childhood there. You only realize that when you leave. I have a hate and love relationship with this mystical island. I hate being far from everything when I’m there. I hate how summer is so freaking hot and how grumpy that makes me (I blame it on the migraines).

I left a part of my heart there, my teenage side, that I go back to each time I’m there. I stop being organized and tidy when I’m at my mom’s place. I go back to being lazy, messy, a stubborn teenager who just wants to watch romantic movies and go out with friends.

I hate being that again, but at times I let myself be. It’s like I’m traveling back in time and everything else just stops for a moment. I’m free from all my adult responsibilities and fears. But it does not last long. After approximately 5 days, I want to leave because I’m not that lazy teenager anymore and also because I spend 50% of the day arguing with my mom.

Sardinia will always be home, one of them. Most of my childhood friends are still there. They love the freaking hot sun, knowing they live in one of the best places on earth, and I’m kinda jealous they feel that way. I wish Sardinia was enough for me, but it’s far from it.


I moved to Amsterdam when I was about to turn 23, and I lived there for 8 years, basically my entire adult life. Those years when you start figuring out you have fucking responsibilities but want to have fun.

I moved there when I didn’t experience hangovers, and I stayed until I could not have two glasses of wine without feeling crapy the entire following day.

Amsterdam is a city full of opportunities, and I got them all. Jobs, love, friends, failures, and fun. All the possibilities you can get, I took them all. It’s endless. It’s a city that never stops evolving, it changes fast, and it’s hard to keep up. It’s liberal, it’s free, it’s romantic, it’s a lot, it’s challenging.

Looking back, I didn’t struggle to settle in. I was young. I wasn’t as introverted as COVID made me. I used to go to the movies alone, didn’t care, and felt free. I was myself for the first time. The Sardinian Marta stayed in Sardinia.

It’s funny how that can happen. I was not homesick. Amsterdam was my home (yes, my second, but it was home). I missed people back in Italy. Of course, I did. I’m not heartless. Did I ever think of going back? Nope, never in 8 years, not even after the most brutal breakup, or when I quit my job because I was depressed, or after my parents separated and I was completely lost.

Amsterdam will always be home.


I’m in Salt Lake City, and I moved here three months ago. It’s a very different city from what I’m used to. I didn’t expect the US to be so different from Europe.

Yeah, I know the US is like this giant country that I still need to explore. But still, SLC is freaking weird, people. Let’s be honest! There is one wine bar in this city, o-n-e. Okay, maybe a few more, but we need more wine bars around here, please.

Jokes aside, nature is freaking unreal here. I got to give you that, Utah. « Slow clapping 👏🏻» Tiny little problem is that I’m not an outdoorsy person. I freak out at the sight of the smallest insect crawling up my leg, and anywhere I go, I’m scared a snake will bite me. That’s the way my days would end.

But, I’m here for a reason: my husband is my third home.

I don’t want a life far from him, and that’s why I ended up here. No regrets, I swear. You all know by now how much I love Amsterdam, but yeah… my husband is just a freaking special human being, and if you knew him, you would understand why I moved to Mormon city.

So again, home is not a place. It’s a state of being, a fantastic feeling that is so powerful and beautiful that I just wanted to describe it. Or at least try.

What’s your home? I would like to know if you don’t mind sharing.

Thanks for reading 🤍



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