Travelling, travelling, travelling (across time and space)
Praise of Small Things (I) She massaged with her ten fingertips the spot from which her long grey hair grew. A humid scent of coconut, a fruit she had never had the chance to taste and which she had always imagined extremely sweet, pervaded her worn body and melted with the woody and deep sandal... Continue Reading →
"You will be alone with the gods, And the nights will flame with fire." Charles Bukowski There is the ice-breaker: where are you from, and the search for the shortest path if we carry a big backpack on our shoulders (we choose the longest road only if we are wandering around or if we understand... Continue Reading →
When you are a foreigner and the day before you went to the same place and had the best home-made brownie ever, and you return the next day, after trekking for about five hours, and they are out of brownies, and they ask you, would you really want to have one, and you almost shout... Continue Reading →
Yes, there was a time when I was older! That was the very first time I carried a backpack and a tent over my shoulders. With Anita, we went camping on top of the Uritorco, the mythical hill near Capilla del Monte in Córdoba, Argentina, reputed to be one of the best places to see... Continue Reading →
I had left Timisoara, in Romania, very early in the morning. Having to take yet another train in Budapest had awakened me for a while: I leveraged the transfer time and had lunch, and besides it is always comforting to walk the busy streets of Hungary's capital city. Anyway, Slovakia was still some hours away... Continue Reading →
“To make a statement Through the process of attribution: That is knowledge. It is to convey an identity. To categorize and ask to conform.” Patrick Imbert I had been told that crossing the border would be a slow and unbearably bureaucratic procedure (almost needless to say, that the officers in charge would be utterly cold... Continue Reading →
A Guaraní1 legend has it that, once upon a time, there was a beautiful goddess with long black hair, and skin as white as snow, who was so in love with human beings that she would spend hours and hours watching in fascination their every move from the skies above. It was in a summer... Continue Reading →
«E mentre salivo le scale mi ricordo la voce del beccamorto che stava dicendo vicino alla porta: 'Tutti pensano a sottoterra, ma lì non c'è niente.' E io dicevo: 'Ma dove c'è allora qualcosa?' 'Intorno, a guardare intorno, se ne vedono delle più belle.'» Ermanno Cavazzoni (Il poema dei lunatici) Most of the unseen world... Continue Reading →
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it “Because it is bitter, “And because it is my heart." Stephen Crane Walking through mud-wall alleys... Continue Reading →
I am sure someone will read this aloud to you because you do not have a Facebook account and, maybe wisely, I believe you have never sat at the PC except for talking to me when I travel. So, this is my voice that, through another voice, wants to say to you: Thanks, Dad, for... Continue Reading →
The Ways of Infinity 