The STRUNCENA DISPATCH

Veronika Struncena’s diary, in which she shares her everyday ventures, stories, journeys, places, people and their conversations, moments significant to the world and her friends, who often come asking, wanting to know - where exactly is Veronika headed for today?

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09/09/2026

Today I went to an orientation day at Holden School in Turin, where I would be introduced to my program, the teachers, the school, and the lunch menu. When I arrived an hour earlier than expected, and sat down at the reception sofa to finalise some of my work, a short, speedy Italian man swiftly approached me and, though using just his jittering presence and unreadable gesturing, tried to understand what exactly it was I was doing at his reception. When it became clear I didn’t understand Italian, or was of Italian descent, two more heads emerged from behind the reception desk, one of which - a man with a tea-sweetening smile and engulfing embrace - asked, “Are you Veronika?”I replied that I was, he laughed, and there I waited until the start of my orientation. During the workshop I became friends with an Italian youth named Massimo who, having witnessed my spectacle at the reception, had decided to devote himself to my saving and  spent the rest of his day alongside me as my trusted companion. When we entered the workshop for the first time, Massimo was the first to alert the lector that his colleague was English. When I had only superficially grasped the lecturer's instructions, Massimo made sure I was in complete clarity of the task, leaving no space for confusion. When I thanked him, saying that he wasn’t obligated to look out for me, and that I had to learn Italian anyway, Massimo jumped to his feet, snapped, “Well then, let me know when you need me again,” and hurried to the front of the class for the oral exercise, where he chose to speak Italian twice as fast as he had before. I must have upset him, because when he returned to his place next to mine, he turned his back on me. Massimo was a true Italian; proud, sentimental, generous, and vulnerable, yet charismatic and unpretentious at once, making him exceptionally charismatic. Massimo also writes brilliant dialogues. My favourite is the one between an old man Dente Joe and his rubber ducky. At lunch Massimo was again making me laugh - we got into a conversation with a local artist, who considered himself a madman in a sane world. Seemed about right. As we were heading toward the cafeteria exit, my conversation with Massimo was suddenly interrupted by another participant, just like us - a young Italian of most intriguing character. Dressed in proper office attire with his jacket slung over his shoulder and hair lazily gelled to the side, he reached out a firm hand. “Hi! I’m Matteo.” “Veronika, nice to meet you.” “Me too. You speak English?” “Yes.” Here he apologized to Massimo for suddenly interrupting our conversation. “Me too. “Are you a student here?” He asked me in the hallway “No, this is my first time here today.”  “Me too. Are you thinking of enrolling in the film course?” He asked me down the stairs “Yes.” I told him by the exit “Me too.” Matteo didn’t get to agree forever, as this was where I had to leave him and Massimo for that day, leaving me in anticipation for what he had to tell me tomorrow.

10/09/2026

I am back at Holden, and today I am in a completely different group than yesterday, with completely different people than yesterday. Everybody’s writing something, but I’m not sure about what, because Massimo isn't with me today. The reason as to why was given to me when I came in for the afternoon workshop in screenwriting, and the receptionist informed me that the workshop had been by complete accident  held in the morning, and that now there would be the writing workshop - the one I had hoped to miss. 

So now I'm sitting in neither of the lessons, in a completely different course entirely, and everyone is writing something, and I'm studying them. Two rows in front of me sits the most Italian looking man I’ve ever seen. White t-shirt, thick mustache, slick-backed hair, dangerous eyes. He could be popular, maybe famous. Next to him on the right sits a girl who very well could be a rock star. Sharp character, clean taste, glasses like the ones you see in brand advertisements; thick, black frames with orange lenses. They seem to be friends. And they are writing something. And I wonder what. Oh look, and there’s Matteo. He should be with Massimo too, but I guess he missed the morning class as well. It’s a shame I have to leave early, I wanted to hear what he had to say yesterday. Maybe just that he was Matteo. 

A minute of writing remains. The teacher calls to drop down our pens.

11/09/2026

I took a bus down to Rome and there I waited for the metro, where for a moment I thought instead of a train, to see Roman chariots approaching on the tracks.