The Spring of ’68

The Spring of '68

I had just closed my leather suitcase, with the thick strap, ruffled my hair with my hands to give them a hairdo, closed the door behind me without knowing how long I would be away or if I would ever come back.

The wind of change was blowing out of my little village. Students from all over the world were protesting against the decisions of those who wanted to keep the power games unaltered as they always had been.

My heart was pounding. I wanted to be there, I wanted to be there where the story was being written. I wanted to see those places with my own eyes, to hear the speeches, to personally watch the leaders of the movement, the great thinkers. I wanted to talk to them. Continue reading “The Spring of ’68”

The Legend of the Falcon-Men

The Legend of Falcon Man

The overhanging walls of our fjords aroused the fear and reverence that usually reserved for what is sacred. The flat expanses of those highlands, completely covered with snow during the long winter, and emerald green with spring, could only be traversed while keeping firm mind and firm nerves.

The height, in fact, gave an unusual ephemeral euphoria. To look at the abyss we felt drunk, of a strange joy, that could lead to a dark fear. That inexpressible height, hundreds of meters, seemed to bewitch you and inspired those who ventured along the edge of the abyss almost always the same fantasy:

Desire to fly… Continue reading “The Legend of the Falcon-Men”

The Silk Road

The Silk Road

The mistral blew heavily over the snow-covered country. This winter seemed to no longer end. The cold entered your bones, and the feeling of wet clothes and constant chills seemed inevitable, even next to the lively flame of the fireplace.

I looked at the maps, the maps that cartographers had drawn, exploring the remotest reaches of the kingdom; of this, in which I too lived, and of those neighboring, that I would have liked, one day, to know with my own eyes.

The reliefs, the mountain ranges that marked the border, remote places where nobody had ever set foot.

I was a merchant. Continue reading “The Silk Road”

About Success

About Success

I had just put the white coffee on the table. My eyes spotted a familiar face on the page of the magazine you had left casually open on page seven.

A distinguished man. With his broad-brimmed gray coat, waving over a Campomaggi leather bag. He was a very well-known entrepreneur. The headline of the news spoke for itself.

Reaching success thanks to an idea? Little luck, a lot of effort.Continue reading “About Success”

Paul’s Guitar

Paul's Guitar

Sometimes I stopped under the pergola to listen to the song of crickets. I sat in the semi-darkness on the old rocking chair, hugged my guitar and began to play my chords. Old songs arranged by me, with the memory of what my teacher taught me about music.

Paul… that was his name, the teacher. An old Brazilian accustomed to endless tours on cruise ships. I met him by chance entering a music store.

“I would like to learn how to play the guitar.” Continue reading “Paul’s Guitar”

Playing my songs

Playing my songs

God! How dusty the road was! For months I was walking across the US coast to coast, with my guitar, my long hair, and my backpack full of books, poetry, and a bundle of clothes.

The Arizona desert smiled at me in all its immense sobriety, with some cactus lost in the vastness of space, almost pointing to the sky above my head.

My songs kept me company along with certain Thoreau’s books. Every new village, lost in an America forgotten by God, seemed to me as crowded as a metropolis. In the drugstores I bought supplies for the following days: some canned beans, dried fruit, and biscuits. Continue reading “Playing my songs”

The wooden boat

The wooden boat

My body crawled forward through the mud of the swamp. It was raining in the meantime. I felt I could not move forward just with my own strength. I felt helpless in front of the narrow prospect of the arrival of the night, and the lack of a refuge.

I was resigned I could not get out of it. I was resigned but I was not desperate. I knew it would last for a long time that crossed, but for the love of life I had to do it, for the sake of what I would find at the end of this absurd obstacle, I had to resist.

Summoning my will, I stopped for a moment, and with my legs immersed in stagnant water and mud, I looked up at the sky, my eyes opened wide to the rain, and out of anger I cried out, with all my breath in my body: Continue reading “The wooden boat”

In the Dunes

In the Dunes

The light of the stars just lit up the darkness of the night. A fire in front of his eyes crackled sincerely. He saw. He saw the spirits of the flames dancing against the darkness and telling the exact same story, repeated unaltered through the centuries of what it meant imprisonment and what it meant freedom.

He remembered his teacher, the words that sometimes repeated him:

“One day you will see them … They dance, dance in the fire” Continue reading “In the Dunes”



There was music that night at The Drunken Barrel. With your eyes lost in the void, you were absorbed to follow the thread of the notes and that absolute void between your thoughts.

You were so fragile my friend. A little bird fallen from the nest. With your dark eyes, red lipstick, too red, eyelashes well highlighted, with all that rimmel, and the cheeks flushed with blush.

Your black hair framed your face. And even if you seemed lost and alone in your world, your heart was beating fast, one hundred and twenty beats per minute, as if you were on the street running at breakneck speed in the fog. Continue reading “Lauryn”

Lao Tsu

Sunrise on the lake - Lao Tsu

The light of the sun, when it rises, always reminds me of your hazel eyes, the long eyelashes of those who knew how to dream, and your oriental smile of a boy born and raised in the Dragon’s land.

Indomitable heart, generous warrior with an open smile, an explosive laugh like the fires of the Chinese New Year. God had made you so beautiful, Lao Tsu, and even if you were just a boy, you were appreciated by the elders, and loved by the people of your village.

Defying sleep, every morning you came out of your little house, to go see the dawn, to fill your eyes with all that beauty. The bamboo canes, the ears of rice that came out of the lake, the sky that gradually brightened, and the Sun peeping out to the east, red and golden like a big orange. Continue reading “Lao Tsu”