a toast. and a break. to how we sometimes forget about “form” and abandon ourselves to our instincts. the highest ones. the lowest.
to limitless love. always love. which luckily fades at times.
to all the children who get lost in the arms of those that should protect them.
to all of us animals. humans. humanimals. and to destiny.
to our solitudes that don’t speak and often don’t listen to each other. but leave many little memories in the electronic space. many little bottles.
to objects. things. that tell a part of our past and greet us in the street. as we go by. for those who still have the time to look out of the car window. and watch. and think. and imagine. but above all to listen.
to how we have abandoned our soul. our culture. our personal and individual growth led by curiosity. only healthy and young curiosity. fresh and oblivious. innocent. following a series of coincidences that will prove all but accidental.
to how we have abandoned ourselves to education. what we have been taught. we have been told. abandoned to what we will be told. abandoned to the system. (ours?)
abandoned to faith. or by faith.
abandoned to ourselves and our craving for being. for becoming. and then in front of the mirror we look at ourselves without being able to gaze inside the vastness and deepness of our glance.
a toast and a break to how we have been – maybe – abandoned by future. like houses overrun by nature. we let ourselves go. and maybe we are/will be fascinating too. and subjects of pictures and illustrations and texts. time will tell. those who will be born tomorrow will tell. when they meet us. and look at us.
above all an invitation to abandon yourselves to your own hands. to the hands of your dreams. and wishes.
and a thank-you to a series of (un?)fortunate meetings. peter sloterdijk. james frey. the shy violetta. abadin’s abandoned chemist’s in galicia. my second hand bicycle.
to michael nyman and the heart that asks for pleasure.
but above all to the abandoned cottages along the via aemilia between castelfranco and bologna on that morning when I rode that bike at that speed. when it was so hot. on that saturday at the end of august two years ago. when I could pedal. think. look. dream. and as time went by elaborate the idea of this theme that you will hopefully appreciate.
yours sincerely.