The moorings will tend to pitch the ship caught between the piers of the harbor, the sails furled, silence on the bridge. In the hold as soon as we hear the creaking of the mice in search of some moldy biscuit and forgotten.
It smells like a storm in the air, my feet on the wood chime with memories.
What a journey! We started with the first rains with a precise route, the Kingdom of Eleu, we returned having barely touched.
The sea is not for the promises. The promises are fearful men, we drunken sailors in perpetual search of adventure, we move free between sky and sea, now the current hours following the pale glimmer of a falling star. Our dreams
impel us elsewhere, to places unknown, our heart beats to the rhythm of the waves stubborn. Close my eyes at the distant tolling of a bell and the vivid images of that rich period which has elapsed between the bridge deck and reclaim a little of my time.
Retrace the steps one by one the trip. A
G UNE Night dell'Infiorata " On your word I will let my nets " read our framework between sand and sea. How to forget last night to pick flowers and then the next day, even flowers and mulberry trees to eat and ears to accumulate between branches of the walnut-turned in the night polyps and algae in the current. For
A gosto we painted in blue, again, the stage between the Castle and poisons and laughter on stage "Arsenic and Old Lace ", the cheerful black comedy by Joseph Kesselring , already famous film by Frank Capra. The wind seems to lead to my nostrils the smell of fresh paint, spray the frames, wood reconditioned.
between late August and S EPTEMBER readings dedicated to the interesting Emigrants to Father Rai blacks in Ignazio Buttitta. Knowledge of Mario Modestini , an extraordinary musician and composer who gave us words of esteem and affection and important tips for our business. And then
O ttobre Here we are in Palermo, on the stage with our colorful papal message of brotherhood and integration, with our desire to reach out to grasp those of those around us in a circle of music and color, because " black and white is more beautiful .
The life of a sailor at the bottom is made precisely this: chance encounters that lead to our deep-sea sailing towards unexplored horizons, or retrace the same routes with new eyes. We are now on a new journey, a drunken new year.
The ship floats plan to keep the moorings, but between the boards along the deck a voice is heard, a reminder .. impossible to ignore ...
