Sanremo: the Italian song festival that unites Italians around the world.

In February, a strange and beautiful thing happens in many Italian homes: the clocks seem to move. Some eat dinner later, some put off going to the gym, some indulge in an extra herbal tea just to stay awake. The Sanremo Festival isn't just a TV show: it's an event that rekindles memories, sparks discussions, and brings back songs we thought were forgotten.

For Italians living abroad, however, Sanremo has an even deeper meaning. Some watch it live, jet lagged and with tired eyes. Some follow it piecemeal the next morning, between coffee and a tram ride. Some organize an evening with friends, both Italian and otherwise, explaining why the competition "isn't really a competition," why the songs matter, but so do the clothes, the jokes, the controversies, the "what's he wearing?" and the "we used to sing that in the car." In that moment, the geographical distance narrows. It doesn't disappear, but it becomes more bearable.

This year, for example, Laura Pausini's presence had a special impact even beyond Italy's borders. Not only because she is one of the most beloved voices in our music, but because for many emigrants she represents a personal soundtrack; her songs have been listened to in bedrooms far from home, on journeys home, in moments of nostalgia, and in new beginnings.

Even the monologues and moments dedicated to today's Italy have a special value for those who live abroad: they are not just entertainment, but fragments of a country that continues to change and that emigrants try to follow from afar, between a night-time live broadcast and messages from the family back home.

Some feel Italian and that's it, some feel Italian "in another way," some are the children or grandchildren of emigrants and discover Sanremo as a gateway to their grandparents' language. In many families abroad, the Festival evening becomes a moment of transition: you listen to a song and, without meaning to, you end up talking about when you left, what you left behind, what you found.

For Italians around the world, Sanremo isn't just music. It's a simple, concrete, imperfect but true way to feel close. Or at least, to remember that distance isn't the only possible story.