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"Amori di maggio" was the first song we wrote for this album, and perhaps for this very reason it carries within it the innocence, fragility, and inconsistencies of initial feelings. We wanted to tell the story of a cowardly love, one in which the protagonist lacks the courage to expose himself, to declare himself, or to truly grow within the relationship. He's a man who hides: he doesn't listen, he doesn't accept, he doesn't want to focus on his feelings. He clings to the other only out of fear of being alone. At the beginning, he asks for a "last kiss," but it's not a romantic request: it's the request of someone who wants to hold on to something despite not knowing how to care for it.

Then, halfway through the song, there's a sudden opening: a moment of truth in which the protagonist truly wonders if he himself contributed to the end of that love. We liked the idea that this realization lasted a very short time, like a gap that opens and closes again. It's a flash that saves no one, but it speaks the truth: sometimes what we never had the courage to protect breaks.

And we were fascinated by the month of May, the month of beginnings, of promises, of the first warm days, of loves that can blossom and fade quickly. It combines sweetness and precariousness. It's the reason why coffee returns in the song, the idea of "drowning" a feeling—something that's beautiful for a moment but then melts and disappears.

"Amori di maggio" is about relationships that began too early or ended too late, about loves that didn't have the time or maturity to grow into adults. It's a reflection on when love isn't enough, and on how difficult it is to face one's responsibilities without hiding behind illusions.