Quando le parole non arrivano, così davanti alla pagina bianca. Un ticchettio di gocce nel lavandino. Sembra Pioggia. Adesso.

Un anno fa non ero qui, e forse neanche due anni fa. Ero, comunque, là e qui, diversamente là e qui. Eppure adesso, ci sono.
Cado giù, giù. Come una Foglia. Grazie 🙂

NPAL Tour & Meeting, Ottobre 2013

(1- continua)

2 .11 . 2013

I was thinking of a series of dreams
Where nothing comes up to the top
Everything stays down where it’s wounded
And comes to a permanent stop
Wasn’t thinking of anything specific
Like in a dream, when someone wakes up and screams
Nothing too very scientific
Just thinking of a series of dreams

Thinking of a series of dreams
Where the time and the tempo fly
And there’s no exit in any direction
‘Cept the one that you can’t see with your eyes
Wasn’t making any great connection
Wasn’t falling for any intricate scheme
Nothing that would pass inspection
Just thinking of a series of dreams

Dreams where the umbrella is folded
Into the path you are hurled
And the cards are no good that you’re holding
Unless they’re from another world

In one, numbers were burning
In another, I witnessed a crime
In one, I was running, and in another
All I seemed to be doing was climb
Wasn’t looking for any special assistance
Not going to any great extremes
I’d already gone the distance

“Der Blaue Reiter” (The Blue Rider), 1903
Wassily Kandinsky