Don’t Change the Date

These songs I wrote
all of them inside my head.
written in verse like prose
word to word I qualified them pretty smooth
Sunday morning smooth… summer hangover-love-making-like melodies

Afloat plane, sitting on clouds I air out my mind. Shapeless foam, one after the other, disengaging, disappearing into each other, emerging parts from the whole, clouds are so magical after all. I get off one,only to get on another, another plane, another cloud. my mind is breezy fresh. I pick a Rhythm: Airport, Bus stop, train station, candy stores, new language, heavy luggage, excuse me miss, door steps, broken keys, warm hugs, genuine laughter, Europe light, autumn shine, i missed you.

Arrived in a place magical. Another people, an old love. Not foreign.
Crafting another verse. cobble stones rub on my left converse. Red to black, rooms in my head are piling with lyrics.

Daylight disappears, night lights appear, my brain hums out of tune, i cannot find the pen with which i will carry my new found gems to paper. One cannot trust the inside of one’s head, it’s known to shut down after sundown… or rather shut off some parts and open widely some others, who knows which part my songs are…

I meet up with friends and hear about their lives, share mine, drink wine, eat cheese, read their books, listen to their music, their girlfriends left, I am engaged…

I meet up with Pete and practice my Italian, reading BOB DYLAN’s poetry – the italian edition. Pete says my accent is good enough, I can start learning the language now.

Taking the back route to the Venice airport, I discover the locations that Nicolo has been photographing – they look suspiciously like what he showed me.

Everyone worries that I don’t travel with camera, and that there is no documentation of all my travels, but even if I were to take a camera along, would it be able to capture the heartfelt conversations Lottie and I had in Paris, the magnificent pride i felt being at Peiro’s and Lorenzo’s exhbition in Schio, the taste of Italian cheese, the smell of Venice on a rainy night (my first night back) walking/boating around Venice with Ramon’s hand drawn map and not getting lost (first time!), walking around Treviso and realising that it had all been shown to me by Scott, I know every spot in Treviso as Scott had explained it to me the first time. Thinking of Lars and his long blonde hair … Driving from Schio with Nicolo, while he showed me his work and we spoke about his projects and I thinking – fuck, I can’t complain that I am busy ever again, this guy is working on 1000 projects all at the same time and they are pretty cool.

the camera is great, yet I would like to think the imprints on my brain are greater …

and a story is worth more than one thousand moments captured as stills.


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