In a wild state
   Catherine Wheel
   Seven Sages
   Wandering riders
   Beyond curtain
   A love poison
   Blind world
   Jack O'Lantern
   Giotto's pastels
   Preludes to Lutin
versione italiana
english version

The objects are important, above all those that last, are damaged with the time, but remain solid to make us remember far persons, other things, ceremonies, the dead men. I have a coffer that left me the eternal wish of candies and chocolates, a photo that remembers me a person that have nothing to do with me of which i don't remember even the name, but since it is not a beautiful photo is there large, throning on the wall like if that girl who acted as a male with the dark cloth hat while she smokes a cigarette and watches me were truly important for me.
Unknown yes, but perhaps important she is. Explain to me why I embrace it with wool white glove and I remember even the cold that I felt in that moment, leaned to a wall cracked with behind the winter park. Perhaps her name was... not, i am not sure.
Falling walls I have seen alot between the photos of the wanderings without goal, without thoughts, with love stories of some hour.
A hallucinatory crystal fungus, a lacquer box that a boy stole for me in a pastry shop, a musical cassette that repeats a phrase, never pronounced by my great loves. Not even who recorded it for a birthday. After fifteen years he called me by phone with the same voice and I finally, it was the hour, refused.
The last gift of love, a purple stone, I threw away as soon as he had gone, because I did not believe that it was magic In fact the airplane regularly left.
When I close with a person I deceive myself to throw every object that could be combinable with, but it is not. They resurface outside from everywhere the forgotten things, and in the least appropriated moments. Signs on the wall that do not go away, cigarette burns on the sheet, spots on carpets.
and then you remember that he liked enormous glasses and that he learned to you to make a better coffee and to wash the ass, but it's not important, as are not the stolen reviews to others, the bad thoughts. Other garbage.
it's right having removed the annual posture of dirtness suddenly from belly-buttom, having thrown some books, having realized that I needed of glasses for sight, being faster to move, more rational in equipping new houses, conserving in optimal state the ones abandoned. The keys are essential in double copy only for me, to be sure not to remain closed outside, in a dark and stormy night. And the comic strips, Donald Duck, the witches, Paperone and Brigitta, as I said to someone who did not understand it, down for the scales of house, closed outside. Life is wonderful.
The bottom that I never played, the rat of Berlin, a green enamel drop on cotto.
And another important name that to hard work I have remembered now and completely I had forgotten. Another piece of my amusing life as collector.
I am more than satisfied, because the friends, little, are those that take just their road, while the enemies and the false friends remain to you glue to see you die.
Someone sometimes are succeeded, making the jumps mortal, to ship him to the moon, and there is always the danger that he could return even from there.
Therefore every day is the dream of a new friend to meet and desire to escape to all the others, than unfortunately, at this point, are introduced also too much well.

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