“Ridere” spins a bittersweet comedy out of a break-up. The singer looks at his ex’s new life and can’t help but chuckle: someone else now kills the spiders, mums still bump into each other at Zumba, and all those once-shared rituals have been reassigned. Behind the smile sits a tender ache. He lists seaside days, failed kitchen purchases, silly arguments and Coldplay lullabies as if leafing through a scrapbook that refuses to close. Laughter becomes a coping tool, the only way to soften a heart that melts every time it has to say goodbye.
Yet the song never wallows. Instead, it turns into a playful pact: please promise you’ll remember us when you feel lost or when you’re old enough to tell stories. From apricot-scented shampoo to a disastrous carbonara in London, each hyper-specific memory is an anchor holding on to what was real. “Ridere” celebrates the strange magic of love that can break you, rebuild you and still make you grin at the mess of it all.