Anthropologist, writer in the making, and devoted mountain wanderer, Marco inhabits a life shaped by curiosity and elevation. Rooted among snowy peaks yet always evolving, he lets questions guide him - and allows the mountains to set his pace.

Myself

Who are you and what kind of life do you live?

I’m an anthropologist, and my life is very much a work in progress. I like the question “what kind of life do you lead?” because that verb, to lead a life, feels active, energizing, and true. I tend to answer with other verbs: I read and study, I write (less than I’d like to), I hike with boots on my feet, I ski, I climb, I take photos, and I talk a lot with people. I wandered for a while, but now I’ve understood how important it is for me to live in the shadow of the mountains.

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How do your work and your passions reflect who you are? How do you balance the two?

My field of study is deeply intertwined with my passions, so finding a balance between the two is something I’m not sure I’ve ever truly needed to confront. Spending time in the mountains and studying them helps me understand them better, and everything I love about them becomes even more meaningful as a result.

Time

What is the rhythm of your life?

I don’t think my life has settled into a stable rhythm yet. It’s a song that shifts, that knows how to change. Maybe the rhythm I’m looking for needs to be flexible as well as steady. There are, however, constant notes—human relationships and mountains. After years spent moving from city to city, I think I’ve understood that, at least for now, even if the rhythm of my life isn’t perfect and is sometimes interrupted, I want it to be marked by snowy peaks and enriching presences.


If you could freeze one moment of your day, what would it be? When do you feel most in your element?

If I could choose, I’d slow down the mornings. I wish there were more hours before the day officially starts. Things feel more beautiful when done in the morning; I might even start running. Although, to be honest, I’d probably use the extra hours to sleep. I feel in my element whenever I manage to really listen to my body and take my time: well-being is built through the quality of moments.

What is time well spent for you?

Our language around time is heavily shaped by economic thinking—to spend time. I think my time is well spent when I manage to detach it from that linguistic logic. When I read and lose track of the hours, when I hike uphill, when I ski. Spending meaningful time with wonderful people also frees me from time-as-economy. In the end, time well spent is time that enriches me without caring about the “cost.”

Movement

What role does movement play in your life?

For me, movement is a conscious act. Some people feel a real absence if they don’t run, walk, or climb for a day—a physical lack that radiates into the mind. I can easily spend whole days at home reading without immediately feeling any discomfort; I’ve never had that visceral urge to move that others describe. I go to the mountains often—ski touring or hiking—but movement for the sake of movement isn’t my main motivation. Over time, I’ve realized that movement shapes my reality much like words do. If I can’t give it meaning, I stop. If I can, I stay. That’s how I approach movement and sport today: as part of a considered sense of identity and well‑being.


What kind of movement restores order in your mind?

Climbing has recently taken on a big role in my life—I practice it several times a week, and I can feel how much it helps me. But I’m also discovering the beauty of movements we often overlook because they serve practical purposes: riding my bike, or choosing to walk instead of taking the tram. Those moments—those supposedly “dead” commuting times—are actually very alive. They give me space to think, to look around, to breathe outdoors.

Meaning

What does simplifyingmean to you - in life, in work, in how you dress?

There’s a very thin line between simplifying and oversimplifying. As an anthropologist, I don’t see simplicity as a value in itself, but as a tool - a way to highlight the world’s complexity without flattening it. Personally, when I simplify poorly, I get bored, and boredom tells me I’ve lost something. Simplifying rarely means removing. It almost always means understanding and reworking. When we try to grasp a difficult concept, we often use too many words, confused ones. In trying to simplify, we might remove words and end up with something banal. But once we truly understand a concept, we can express it with clearer, more beautiful -and therefore simpler - words. I use the example of concepts, but this applies just as naturally to everyday life, to clothing, to the projects we throw ourselves into.

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If you had to describe your life with one word, what would i be - and why?

With questions like this (which I personally love - I find them great fun), I like answering with a color. My word would be: fuchsia. It’s my favorite color. The inside of my ski touring backpack is fuchsia, as are my water bottle and the little waist pack I use every day. It’s a color that makes me happy because it’s so bright and bold, yet surprisingly easy to pair - especially with black. I love it also because it’s unusual; when it’s there, you notice it. It attracts me in the most unexpected situations—if there are climbing routes with fuchsia holds, you can be sure those are the ones I’ll climb first. I like the idea of associating it with my life because on one hand it’s the color I’d like others to see in me, and on the other, it’s a wish:

Wouldn’t you want a colorful life, too?