“And isn’t it strange—after all, we are strangers after all.“ I once read this sentence, and it stayed with me. People come and go in our lives, and the person who once knew your deepest secrets, with whom you shared golden hours, can one day become nothing more than a fading memory—no longer part of your world. That’s the way things go. And it’s exactly the space Naomi Panzica explores in her new single “Crowded Rooms.”

“Letting go doesn’t mean erasing the past—it just means making room for what’s ahead,” Naomi says in our interview, gently revealing the emotional landscape that runs through her music. Naomi, who was raised in Munich in a creative home with Sicilian roots, carries her sensitivity into every line she writes. Her mother is a photographer, her stepfather an actor—and both encouraged her early artistic instincts. She started creating music as a child, drawn to sound and emotion, and later moved to Berlin to study songwriting. There, in the midst of a full yet distant city, her sense of inner belonging began to shift.

Her upcoming debut EP, written during this time of change, is a diary of someone observing, feeling, remembering. It’s less about holding onto the past, and more about navigating what it means to feel far from yourself—and slowly finding a way back. “Because if you don’t feel at home in your own heart,” Naomi tells us, “it doesn’t really matter where you are or who you’re with—you’ll still feel a kind of distance.” The first window into this body of work is “Crowded Rooms”—a gentle, slow-burning track that feels both spacious and intimate. It’s a song that offers Naomi’s voice in its rawest form: thoughtful, unforced, and full of emotion.

We spoke with Naomi about memory, love, letting go, and the quiet moments that shape her art. It’s a conversation about what remains when everything else fades—and an invitation to sit with the emotions we often rush past.

photography by Loredana La Rocca

Naomi, congratulations on your release day! How are you spending this special moment?

Hi, thank you so much! I celebrated the release last night at a bar – it felt a bit like having a birthday, the way you excitingly wait for midnight! (smiles) Today, I just want to sit back and really enjoy the moment. The weeks leading up to a release are always so intense and full-on, and everything happens so fast that you barely get a chance to actually appreciate all the work you’ve put in. So that’s what I want to focus on today – just taking it all in and being proud of what’s out there now.

“Crowded Rooms” speaks to the impossibility of un-knowing someone. I can totally relate to this theme. Was there a specific moment that sparked this song, or did it arrive slowly?

You already put it perfectly – this feeling that eventually sparked this song arrived very slowly. Over time, I kept realizing just how deeply and intensely I had gotten to know this person. It was that kind of connection where you really know someone by heart. But at the same time, I could feel us drifting further and further apart. For me, that’s such a tricky mix of emotions – because this “knowing” sometimes creates a sense of closeness that isn’t really there anymore. It is more in your head than in reality. I kept struggling with that lingering feeling of being so connected to someone, which is what sparked the question for me: can you ever really become strangers again after feeling so intertwined with someone’s mind?

So, in the end, do you think two people can ever truly become strangers again after deep emotional closeness? Honestly—and somewhat surprisingly—I have to say, after thinking about it, I believe it’s possible.

I totally agree with you on this—I also really want to believe it’s possible too. (laughs) But yes, time moves on, and if you had to unknow this person for a reason, I firmly believe that you can become strangers again. There just comes a point where you start to realize that there’s so much more out there—so many more people to meet, new experiences to have. You begin to create memories without them, and then one day you wake up and it’s just… faded. And that’s okay. That’s part of life.
I also think there’s something beautiful in accepting that not everything is meant to stay. Just because someone meant a lot to you once doesn’t mean they always have to occupy space in your heart. Letting go doesn’t mean erasing the past—it just means making room for what’s ahead. And in a way, that’s not sad—it’s a new chapter to start with.

“I want to take life step by step—and enjoy the beauty in each phase.”

In a world so focused on moving forward, what does it mean to you to linger in memory—to honor it without becoming trapped in it?

Funny that you mention this, because I do sometimes get trapped in it. I really love to, as you say, honor memories, because there’s so much gratitude in being able to say, “Wow, I really got to feel all of that.” Those past moments, those emotions—they’ve shaped who I am today. I also use them as a kind of check-in with myself: Why am I feeling this way? Why is it hard to let go? Most of the time, the answers live somewhere in my memories. That’s why it can be so inspiring to linger in them.
But—there’s a fine line. Spending too much time in the past can completely pull me out of the present as well. Sometimes I get so caught up in what’s no longer there that I forget to appreciate where I actually am. It can create this constant sense of lack, and honestly, it makes letting go really hard. So yes, I think there’s something beautiful in lingering in memories, but depending on what you’re holding onto, it’s just as important to eventually let it go and think about what’s next.

You describe your songs as emotional snapshots. How do you decide which moments are worthy of being turned into music?

This may sound a little bit weird, but I don’t really decide that. It’s more like this feeling builds up inside me—like something needs to come out. So I grab my guitar or sit at the piano and just start singing whatever comes to mind, whatever I’m feeling in that exact moment. And it’s often only a few lines in—or sometimes even after the whole song is written—that I realize what it’s really about. It’s like my subconscious is saying things before I even fully understand them myself.

What’s fascinating is that sometimes I’ll sit down thinking I want to write about a very specific topic that’s been on my mind, but then the song starts to take on a life of its own. That’s usually when I uncover what’s actually going on beneath the surface. Because often, the real feeling is hidden underneath so many other layers of emotion, and music has this way of helping me peel those layers back. And that is what I mean with emotional snapshot as well—I capture whatever is being uncovered in that moment.

“My songs are emotional snapshots—capturing whatever is being uncovered in that moment.”

Much of your music feels like a quiet search for home. Do you think that sense of “home” is found in people, places, or something more internal?

Especially the songs I’ve written over the past year—which I’ll be releasing more of very soon—have been my way of figuring out that exact question for myself. Looking back now, I’d say that the feeling of “home” is really a combination of all those things: people, places, memories… but the internal part is definitely the hardest to navigate. There’s no clear solution, no quick fix. For a long time, I thought the sense of home I was searching for was something like a certain place, or tied to a specific version of life—either something I used to have or something I hoped to get back. But after writing and recording these songs, and listening back to them now, I’ve realized I’ve actually mostly been missing it from within.
Because if you don’t feel at home in your own heart, it doesn’t really matter where you are or who you’re with—you’ll still feel a kind of distance. A distance from yourself. And I’m really grateful I got to experience that realization through these songs and can continue working on that little by little!

You once said Berlin felt full yet distant—could you tell us more about what you meant by that?

Yes, of course! When I moved to Berlin for my music bachelor, I met so many new people and was so lucky to find some of my closest friends there.
But over time, I started feeling this growing distance—not from others, but from myself. I felt disconnected from the version of me that existed before I moved, and in a weird new way that I couldn’t grasp for a long time. I often felt out of place in the city. It was huge, loud, full of energy and chaos—so different from what I was used to. I grew up surrounded by family, with that closeness and familiarity always nearby, and suddenly Berlin felt like the complete opposite: full, and with everything so far away. And distant.
I found myself clinging to the old version of me, missing my family and my old idea of “home.” But the more new things I experienced, the more I realized that the past I missed wasn’t coming back—and that was hard. It was one of those moments where you feel like your old home doesn’t feel like home anymore the way it used to, because you’ve changed and moved away… but the new place doesn’t feel like home either, because home for me was where my family is and where I moved away from.
The contrast of being in this full, moving city—with so many people coming and going, everything at a distance—it just made me feel really lost. In your early 20s, you’re also at the same time always trying to figure out who you are and what you want and who you want to be. Being in a place where I didn’t feel like myself just amplified that distance I was feeling—but it wasn’t the city’s fault. I just had to learn how to find that anchor within myself first and shift my perspective.

“Home used to be a place. Now, I know it’s something I have to find within.”

Where do you see yourself in around 10 years?

Uh, this is always a really big question. Career-wise, I see myself continuing to write songs—both for myself and for others—and still being able to share these little pieces of my mind and emotions with people who resonate with them. One of my big dreams has also always been to have my music placed in sync (TV, movies, commercials…) and to be writing for moving image. So, if, in ten years, I’m doing what I love with people I love, creating these meaningful emotional “snapshots,” I’d be incredibly grateful.
Aside from that, I can’t know exactly where life will take me—but I know how I want to feel: fulfilled and grounded, surrounded by the people I love, and at peace with the not knowing. I want to take life step by step and enjoy the beauty in each phase. And most importantly: I see myself feeling at home—starting from within.

The most important thing in life is?

I’m very close to my family, and my friendships are something I really prioritize and make time for. So for me, the most important thing in life is definitely my family and friends. They give me so much love and energy—having that kind of support system and solid base is something I truly cherish and never take for granted.

Thank you so much for your time! Thank you so much for having me! (smiles)

Follow Naomi Panzica for more:
www.instagram.com/naomipanzica
www.naomipanzica.com