Coming Soon:

The Way of Imperfection.

Across Music, Faith and the Grace of Becoming

The Way of Imperfection is a spiritual memoir written as an intimate dialogue between my older and younger self. Moving across time and memory, the book reflects on music, faith, vocation, beauty, suffering, imperfection, and grace, while exploring the interior life beneath the visible life of the creative artist.

At its heart lies a simple question: What would I say to my younger self with what I know today? The question arises not from regret, but from tenderness toward the young artist I once was and toward the many attachments surrounding success, identity, recognition, and self-sufficiency that I could then only sense but not fully understand.

Inspired by Saint Teresa of Ávila’s The Way of Perfection and other influential voices in Catholic spirituality, the book begins at the restless and unfinished place where the spiritual journey so often takes root. It follows the gradual realization that we are not the ultimate source of the gifts we carry, and that our deepest worth rests not in talent, productivity, recognition, or success, but in being before God.

Through a conversation that moves between past and present, The Way of Imperfection considers how suffering, forgiveness, and surrender may become places of transformation, and how grace continues to work through lives that remain unfinished.

In this light, imperfection is not a complacent indulgence in brokenness, but an openness through which grace may begin to work more freely. To be imperfect is to offer one’s unfinished self to the hands that alone can shape it without destroying it, knowing the vessel will always remain clay. And here, perhaps, the deepest paradox emerges: the true danger is not falling short, but succeeding without love.

Book cover photography by Fiorenzo Omenetto

"It’s still winter here"

Marco Pignataro

Jan 23, 2021

1 min read

It’s still winter here

The world’s suspended

muted by sunless thoughts

like puffs of damp cottons in my ears

All too familiar empty smiles

surroundings and past

silent colorless ice plunges

into spiral wind, sliding

muggy snow

Solitude

See, the swallows

flew away

long time ago

I can’t remember now

But If they’ll stop flying

perhaps they’ll move on

-one day

Except, listen..

with their clipped wings

they won’t move at all

Yesterday

they sung in unison

dressed with eternity

Uncaring of winter presages

embracing,

so willing to fall

Until the wind shifted

To unrecognizable chants of blue

uncovered truths

uncharted migration of being

I said: it’s still winter, here

yet all is the same

The earth has slowly sheltered the fallen leaves

with melancholic tenderness

under pale moons, fog

rain and clouds

Even a frozen lake

keeps the undercurrents imprisoned,

unmoving, untouched

poem & photography by Marco Pignataro

Book cover photography by Fiorenzo Omenetto

"It’s still winter here"

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