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Fables and dreams


From the window comes a ray of light that clears the floor. Friday morning. There is silence in the studio. I always like to be alone. They are the last few weeks here and already there's another waiting room and new faces and new experiences. If I say one thing and do the soliamente prefer to create change rather than wait for them. The sky is blue, striped with white clouds. Smell of tobacco. The desire for coffee. It was a special week. I always feel a subtle pleasure when I see that things follow the route that I trace, when the boat obeys the helm. It will be the 'Fall . It will be that by dint of sailing with the Sea rough now I've learned everything properly. It is always a matter of right distances, perhaps. Or right approach, I do not know. Then there are the memories, of course, the
the Treasury my most precious. The scents carried by the wind from distant cities. The new experiences. The smiles popular variety in the midst of old stones, unexpectedly. The promises of Cerasuolo di Vittoria . morning I recognized the face staring back at me with a half smile in the mirror. A captain of my acquaintance. All in all a good day today. Here
November. I expected you, my friend.