About

The Chinese language, my mother tongue, offers fertile ground for imagism. Endless poetry lives within it, as long as one cherishes stories. Yet, growing up Chinese, the surrounding structures left minimal space to live or write freely. Nevertheless, I completed a lengthy fantasy when I was twelve. Ever since, a deep enthusiasm for storytelling has sustained me through the frustrations of limited circumstances.

I majored in Italian—a seemingly lazy choice at the time—yet through the magic threads of linguistic roots, I discovered something profoundly beautiful: how ancient people perceived the world, how words carry memories, and how languages echo and resonate across time.

It was during this period that I began using the name Cinzia. I’ve always felt deeply connected to the moon—I was born on a winter night beneath a full moon, and that fierce, silent, distant presence became my earliest companion. Naturally, Artemis became woven into the name I chose. Over time and through journeys, I began to see her as more than just a virgin huntress. She revealed herself as an ancient maternal figure, a protector of animals and forests, and a guardian of Earth’s forgotten wisdom. The name carries its original meaning, now enriched with many more memories.

Nulla, in contrast, embodies a spirit of resistance. In Chinese, I previously wrote under the name 司空 (Sikong); the two characters mean “control” and “emptiness”, and the term signifies a position of “controlling water.” I am particularly fond of the emptiness it offers—in Taoist and Buddhist traditions, emptiness is never mere void but infinite potential. For me, the Italian word nulla conveys this even better. It deliberately leaves the surname blank, manifesting my truth and my determination: I inherited no shelter, no fortune, no expectations. Thus, I intentionally leave that space empty—to remember, to accept, and to gratefully affirm my existence as solely human, a being of the earth. I am as old as the age of water and as new as the first civilized person who had no surname. I depart with only imagination; the path is meaningful and sufficient.