L'argento di certe mattine d'inverno, in silenzio si insinua tra le sagome nere del bosco
Presenze inquiete, immobili, piegate su se stesse, quasi sofferenti, tenaci testimoni di antichi secreti. Foschi simulacri impietriti dal gelo, quasi umane espressioni, forse tracce di tempi andati. L'argento di certe mattine d'inverno si stende veloce sull'erba fredda, scivola lungo le sponde del fiume, ne carezza l'acqua increspata e rimbalza via in riflessi d'incanto. Fruscii di luce, quasi fiotti di metallica bellezza, quasi benedizioni inattese e speranze avverate Salgono verso il cielo portati dall'aria in rivoli lenti e sinuosi, si attaccano ai rami delle foglie e brillano come pietre rare tra i rami che il sentiero separa. Nel vuoto di suoni e nell'assenza di colore, nell'indefinita sensazione di appartenere a questo pulsante mondo in risveglio, a questa promessa che si schiude lentamente di fronte a te ed insieme a te, è in tutto questo che l'argento di certe mattine sa strapparti un sorriso. E inondare di gioia la tua anima. View more Frames on the wall as windows staring at a different time and story
Broken windows as frames to a world imprisoned in invisible cages I count the scratches on what remains of the plaster Smooth and white it was, ancient strength turned now into broken shapes And snippets of colours, now Dumb monument under an infinite sky only lusting for the rain, To wash away so many memories, so many regrets I can see them clearly now, and mention them one by one The touch of the time, the story of someone, the lost of someone, the mystery in the picture, the voice of the wind, the noise of the city the bites of the life, the borders not to pass, the joy of freedom, the unknown horizon, the way back home, the tricks of the past, the troubles of the present Categories in your mind for lining up the world And give it a meaning it has not The grass is growing green and luxuriant, and the day is still young and generous they say but I'd better leave 'cause too many clouds seems to gather so fast at the horizon And the storm could come soon to remember us that a roof, even a small one, is sometimes what we need the most. Cover of the album "Led Zeppelin IV" used as background When the shops lining the streets are shelters for the rain And trickles of cold water slowly slip down on the glass as tears in the dark And the night is lulled by the murmur of distant traffic And air smells of ozone, and the elegant red haired lady suddenly turns and meet your eyes And each one stares the other silently as the gaze gets deeper and addictive And those eyes glitter as diamonds And both hint a smile and the world fades away Then there is magic around. (* Two photographs overlapped - waiting for the final one)
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AuthorStories 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. Archives
December 2021
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