A poem to Giulia Stella Castronovi who's an Italian model being Bela

Giulia Castronovi

- Football, Man...
You said this to me while I wasn't holding a pen... I replied to you:
- Tiki Taka?
- That's the past...
- At last... 
 You stared at me while posing me a question in action:
- How do we score goals then?
- There's a wall holding the ball...
I was looking at your hair and trying to think inside a split second like you were telling me something about an atom...
- Counter attack isn't lack...
 I said this to you... 
 You asked me this:
- Were you born in the same land where Mourinho and Cristiano didn't bend?
 Your beautiful eyes have a soul... 
 They keep you bold... 
 I told you this: 
- It's the only way to be...
- A ball to score a net...
- Must be quick...
- Footbal isn't a ship... 
 You were there, here, elsewhere... 
 Thinking on a road to nowhere...
- Man, there's the beautiful game...
- Tiki Taka isn't a shame... 
 You told me this.
 I was staring at a black and white picture of you and told you this:
- Football is a kiss...
- Football is to score...
- Football is wanting more and more...
- Football isn't a goalkeeper deeper...
- Football is showing that a bone can be a stone...  I said this to you... 
 A goal was being put in the net as a fact...
- 7...
- 0...
- 1...
- Let's have fun... 
 You said this to me... 
 Whiskey was free... 
 And without us knowing we were wherever we want to be...
- THERE'S FIRE...
- THERE'S ICE...
- THERE'S A PYRE...
- THERE'S A COLISEUM... 
 You shouted this while we were taking pictures of you inside an arts museum...