“Dai, salta su . . . !” (Come on . . . jump on !)

“Vorrei scendere.” disse, ed era in salita.

“Da tempo, stava arrancando, anche in pianura. nella casa così sospesa fra un ritorno di cose ed idee partite e tornate indietro. Tornare indietro, come se fosse un’altra. Quella che sta diventando.”

Qui, al sesto piano, mi pare che la sospensione drammatizzi un volo e, come se fosse già avvenuto, guardo giù. IMG_0960


“Vorrei scendere.”, disse. Eppure, stava camminando su un sentiero che era una strada.”

“Vorrei scendere”, si trovò a  ripetere.”

Ed improvvisamente, tutti i grattacieli scompaiono insieme ai falsificati Boschi verticali. Ne restarono poche tracce, come pozzanghere. 

NPAL 3011014 Diary (listening to the Vision of Joanna,  again)

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Visions of Johanna – Portsmouth UK, Summer 2000 –

1.   NPAL Diary in Transit – London, WhiteChapel Gallery, January 2014

(altre limmagini in progress, prossimamente, cioè presto 🙂

* * * * * * * * * * * *

P.S.:  Come on, jump on and spring up . . . !

2 12 . 014

“Fai il primo passo nella fede: Non hai bisogno di vedere tutta la scala, basta fare il primo passo.”

Martin Luther King

3 thoughts on ““Dai, salta su . . . !” (Come on . . . jump on !)

    words and music Bob Dylan

    Ain’t it just like the night to play tricks when you’re tryin’ to be so quiet?
    We sit here stranded, though we’re all doin’ our best to deny it
    And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin’ you to defy it
    Lights flicker from the opposite loft
    In this room the heat pipes just cough
    The country music station plays soft
    But there’s nothing, really nothing to turn off
    Just Louise and her lover so entwined
    And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind

    In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman’s bluff with the key chain
    And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the “D” train
    We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
    Ask himself if it’s him or them that’s really insane
    Louise, she’s all right, she’s just near
    She’s delicate and seems like the mirror
    But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
    That Johanna’s not here
    The ghost of ‘lectricity howls in the bones of her face
    Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place

    Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
    He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
    And when bringing her name up
    He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
    He’s sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
    Muttering small talk at the wall while I’m in the hall
    How can I explain?
    Oh, it’s so hard to get on
    And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn

    Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
    Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
    But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
    You can tell by the way she smiles
    See the primitive wallflower freeze
    When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
    Hear the one with the mustache say, “Jeeze I can’t find my knees”
    Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
    But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel

    The peddler now speaks to the countess who’s pretending to care for him
    Sayin’, “Name me someone that’s not a parasite and I’ll go out and say a prayer for him”
    But like Louise always says “Ya can’t look at much, can ya man?”
    As she, herself, prepares for him
    And Madonna, she still has not showed
    We see this empty cage now corrode
    Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
    The fiddler, he now steps to the road
    He writes ev’rything’s been returned which was owed
    On the back of the fish truck that loads
    While my conscience explodes
    The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
    And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain


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