And the autumn slowly came, to revive the world after the summer exuberance.
A matter of light, a matter of shades, a matter of sensations with no direction or apparent reasons.
A new season of elegance and class. A mature time to turn back to the essence of life and its intimate treasures. Terrain colours not washed away by the excess of light, a new gamut of possibilities and perspectives still dimmed and confused, yet pulsing and moving in the background, waiting for the right time to become real, to join this line of universe.
People around talk and plan and make forecast. The hissing of autumn lawns is just on the other side. Future scenarios here to come, new steps of expected growth.
Industry 4.0 swarming around. The prairie wind is just on the other side.
Nations and people to face the never ending problems that the history gave us so generously. Humans adventures on the skin of this fancy blue planet .
Angels and demons, heroes and cowards, wars and passions, hawks and doves. Rust never sleeps. Sophisticated civilisations run fast downwards. All data logged for some post-process analysis.
The sweet illusion of a granted future. And Robin will save the day.
“So, where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday? And where all the sportsmen who always pulled you though? They are all resting down in Cornwall writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual” (1).
(1) From “Thick as a brick”, Jethro Tull
Stories and novels, stories and shades of words. Sapphire can be a voice, a whisper, a night talk. Colours in words, words merged and melted with pictures. Words as colours, words as shapes sometimes overlapping with the visual experience. A different way to see the world or, maybe, just the very same way using different tools and finding different paths.