You don’t have secrets, You take with You hope, joy and pain, goodbye and farewell, escape routes and desires. Sometimes they are heavier that the things You put inside me.
It’s my job, I take a part of You wherever You go, a part of the memories You are leaving.
I will help You to take You where You want and I will call to Your mind how important is coming back home.
I will be empty for the time that Your stay requires and ready to be filled up when Your heart and Your feet will decide to get in the way.
Authentic document of the traveller.
The Balance of Passion
Let loose, abandon to the lines drawn by the skates on the ice, they will lead us.
We won’t fall, because we hold up each other, because we are together. I protract my arms, sure, while Your chest is one with mine. Heart on heart.
In balance, creating a perfect shape of passion and harmony.
In balance, while the world looks at us and tries to maintain its balance.
The notes draw paths for who is disoriented and a song can lead You everywhere You want to be taken.
This is the music, immense is its power.
Freeze - Frame
The route that separated them from their dwellings required a certain timeframe. They had to hurry to get to their destinations in time for dinner and avoid the river of questions that’d force them to justify for being late.
They’d have loved to be together for much more time, but the life they led out of themselves called them to order.
Greetings were exchanged after having gazed intensively in their eyes, each one carrying the taste of each other’s lips and, in their minds, the instant in which the night eternalized them in that freeze-frame.
Praise of Beauty
The patch of the moon, half or full, dancing in the night together with the stars. Beauty.
A child that runs in a park, swift and carefree, playing hide-and-seek accompanied by the cheer of his friends and followed by the liberating shout that frees everybody: “Hide!”. Beauty.
The joy in saying I’m able, I made it, I am committed and I don’t surrender, admit that sometimes some help may be needed. Beauty.
The hugs, physical or metaphorical, when you least expect them and yet they arrive, they squeeze you, they are gratifying and you return them. Beauty.
The rustling of the leaves moved by the delicate and wild winds, the gracefulness of a pine and the regality of an oak. Beauty.
Two hearts around billions of heartbeats, they search for each other and they find themselves and, from that instant on, they decide to start beating with one voice, creating a jam session called love. Beauty.
The eyes of the elders, intense and seemingly tired. Eyes that saw a lot and that are still filled with many things, dictating words that turn out to be tales and memories of life and lives, ready to be heard and ready to be respected. Beauty.
A river that flows, the view of the sea and the view of the wave that falls upon the rock, the peaceful calmness of a lake and the refreshment secured by a fountain from which you can drink. Beauty.
Packing the bags for a journey. Leaving, discovering the beauties and the places, letting people met in other places contaminate you, crossing boundaries and distances and understanding that distances and boundaries are just barriers and barbed wire. Beauty.
Listening to the news bulletin and being surprised when, at last, it doesn’t tell only bad news. Beauty.
Allow yourself to be overwhelmed by the reading of a book, being emotionally accompanied by a song, following its rhythm while dancing on it. Beauty.
It has to be searched, chased, found and valued, and it’s here, in the things that we are living, observing, breathing, in and out of us.
Eventually it has to be bestowed to all, without being afraid of losing it and without being afraid of never winning it back. Beauty, You know, generates Beauty and in this anguished world, I know it and you know it too, we must look for Beauty.
With his hands, the ones of an artist
They create, they harmoniously glide on the majestic and fierce wood, provided by a maple of the Balkans, honouring him through accurate delicacies.
Hands that compose an eternal melody on every work entrusted to them, offering, through the fingers, a little magic to the other hands that will soon caress his work of art.
An obstetrics artistry of masterly hands, noble Maieutics donated by other men of craft.