It all began with a journey. Not in the rhetorical sense of the term, but with real steps, into emptying villages, along silent streets, alongside faces filled with expectation and questions. It was the summer of 2015, and I had an urgent need: to tell the story of Basilicata not as a remote place, but as a space of possibility. Thus was born #luogoideale (ideal place): more than a project, a gentle obsession.

A way of saying that even in territories considered peripheral, new words are being generated, visions capable of touching the heart of Italy's transformations. Not just beauty, but work, innovation, citizenship. Over these ten years, I have tried to construct a narrative that is neither nostalgic nor promotional, but militant in the best sense of the word.

Because talking about a region like Basilicata inevitably means talking about the entire country. Talking about depopulation, inequality, youth on the run, and roots that resist. But it also means listening to the stories of those who choose to stay, return, reinvent. It means viewing the territory not as a problem to be solved, but as a laboratory for social, cultural, and political experiments. #LuogoIdeale has become a blog, a social media hashtag, a radio program, a series of books, a collection of videos, meetings, and urban walks. Each stop has been a way to explore the questions of the present.

We tried to recount Potenza on the eve of Rai's New Year's Eve, to convey the authentic image of Maratea beyond the postcards, to walk among the contradictions and expectations of Matera, which was overcoming 2019 but still didn't know the fate of humanity, profoundly affected by Covid, to seek out stories of innovation and courage in the most unexpected places. We gave voice to women and men who are building change from the bottom up, to entrepreneurs, teachers, artists, administrators, and activists. Above all, we tried to restore dignity to the narrative of a territory often simplified or forgotten.

It wasn't about creating a brand, but about building a community. Of words, of course, but also of faces, gestures, presences. Of connections between generations, countries, experiences. Of affections that become visions. This is why the project has found space in institutions, festivals, schools, and public squares. It has transcended the internet to enter our lives. Over the past ten years, we have experienced epochal ruptures—a pandemic, new wars, climate crises—but the need for ideal places has never diminished. Indeed, it has grown.

Because an ideal place is not a perfect place: it is a space where we try, together, to make another idea of the future possible. Telling the story of Basilicata, then, was—and still is—a way to question the country about what it means to grow without uprooting. It is a way of affirming that there are no lesser territories, only unheard narratives. And perhaps today, more than ever, we need maps that lead not only to global cities, but to the margins that teach patience, loyalty, and care. We need places where time becomes more human and the future can still sprout like a seed in a crack. #LuogoIdeale was this: a way to stay. A way to leave without forgetting. A way to believe, once again, that another story is possible. That Basilicata is the land of the future.