I returned on the shores of the Bosphorus. I'm not back here alone, I have come in company, with the contrabass. Now my heart is definitively in Istanbul, following that for which my home is where the contrabass is.
The idea of travel by land and by ferry from Bari to Greece was forcibly replaced by a flight from Milan, due to a series of strikes by maritime transport in Greece.
The trip to Italy was a short but kilometric one, as usual. Milan-Naples-Bari-Milan. And I have not even stopped in Rome.
What deserves to be remembered for this trip? Francesca, who has just entered the house of viale Bligny 42, a day that was mine. She tells me that: "it is not that you may have overestimated in the past that person?"... and again: "she is just a girl, you can not expect anything else, maybe the problem is you that you are afraid of a real woman".
Armando then reads cards to me and splits me in 3 characters: the mentor, the lover and the artist. And with one hand on my shoulder quotes Silvio Rodriguez, the price of being oneself, one's own solitude, but also the awareness of our limitations, our borders, to know what we are and what we want and what we will stand for.
The tears just arrived at the station of Naples, the embrace with Luca in front of the central post office. A few hours later, at home, a demand that alone says it all without response, "but why last spring, after leaving work on TV, you have not tried something similar here in Italy, had all the doors open "... Why, dear Luca, one day someone decides to leave everything that has (or at least a big part) and follow another person? For love?
The idea of travel by land and by ferry from Bari to Greece was forcibly replaced by a flight from Milan, due to a series of strikes by maritime transport in Greece.
The trip to Italy was a short but kilometric one, as usual. Milan-Naples-Bari-Milan. And I have not even stopped in Rome.
What deserves to be remembered for this trip? Francesca, who has just entered the house of viale Bligny 42, a day that was mine. She tells me that: "it is not that you may have overestimated in the past that person?"... and again: "she is just a girl, you can not expect anything else, maybe the problem is you that you are afraid of a real woman".
Armando then reads cards to me and splits me in 3 characters: the mentor, the lover and the artist. And with one hand on my shoulder quotes Silvio Rodriguez, the price of being oneself, one's own solitude, but also the awareness of our limitations, our borders, to know what we are and what we want and what we will stand for.
The tears just arrived at the station of Naples, the embrace with Luca in front of the central post office. A few hours later, at home, a demand that alone says it all without response, "but why last spring, after leaving work on TV, you have not tried something similar here in Italy, had all the doors open "... Why, dear Luca, one day someone decides to leave everything that has (or at least a big part) and follow another person? For love?
And then drive the motorbike again through the streets in Naples, and the journey by motorbike from Naples to Bari (travel I had to do in October, with a mild temperature), in the midst of a snow storm, shouting from inside the helmet for the cold but also for a different kind of cold.
How can I not remember the night journey from Bari to Milan sleeping in bunk embracing the contrabass? Like to be embraced with my life, while the fast train running in the night on that same track on which I grew up traveling.
And now I am here again in my room at Tarlabaşı. The contrabass is a beautiful exhibition of its-self among backpacks, books on the floor, amplifiers, pistachio shells, an empty can of beer, a pair of hard-disc, the magic carpet. This is my still life, and I find it good today as I always have found it. This is the true homecoming.
And now I am here again in my room at Tarlabaşı. The contrabass is a beautiful exhibition of its-self among backpacks, books on the floor, amplifiers, pistachio shells, an empty can of beer, a pair of hard-disc, the magic carpet. This is my still life, and I find it good today as I always have found it. This is the true homecoming.
