This nocturne was composed in response to a devastating image that will remain etched in my memory: children in Gaza gathered in desperation around a food charity kitchen. In the crush of hunger and chaos, boiling food spilled over them, causing severe burns. It was not just an image of need, but of dignity wounded—innocence scorched by both war and want.

I chose to compose this work in the style of a nocturne because it is the most honest musical form for expressing inner and emotional experience. A nocturne does not need to scream—it reveals pain through whispers, tension through silence, and burning through the hesitation between two notes. It is a form that allows the piano to breathe as a living, feeling being—not merely as an instrument. In this nocturne, the night speaks—the night in which hunger gasps—and the notes flow like traces of scars on the skin of childhood.

Scorched Hunger is a personal and emotional response to this moment. It is music born from silence, from powerlessness, from witnessing a pain that resists words. In writing this piece, I tried to listen to that silence, to let it guide my hands at the piano.

This is my third nocturne, and I dedicate it with deep gratitude and admiration to five people whose moral clarity and unwavering support for Palestine and Gaza have touched me profoundly: Laura Pontoni, Antonia Carrassi Traversa, Simonetta Bernardi, Fabrizio Pontoni, and Jacopo Nones. Their presence, solidarity, and kindness have been a source of strength—especially during the recent presentation of one of my compositions in Italy, where my Second Nocturne (Stars Over the Sleeping City) was performed by the remarkable pianist Alberto Nones.

To Alberto Nones, I owe special thanks—not only for his exquisite artistry, but for his generous and courageous commitment to the Palestinian cause. His music, like his heart, carries truth. This work was composed in great collaboration with Alberto Nones.