This is a story
that doesn't begin if it's not finished first. A story of undetermined
and undue visions, we don't owe anything to anybody and, most of all,
like wise Cruz used to say:” At what time?”.. A story that swings
between never and ever and remains hanging in the present, a story
without reference points.
An atom that vibrates in the nothing, that is not and
produces tons of other vibrations, that were already there..interwaving
threads, they tangle up and hug other threads so that it becomes
impossible to distinguish the beginning of one from the end of the
other.
A net that wrappes up a black hole...you open that box and,
inside, you find other two, three, four, nineteen boxes..other seventy
you open and inside seven boxes, each one containing sixty little
galaxies...easy to get confused at that point.
Nevertheless you stop thinking about why you were opening those boxes and dive in that carton-sea.
This is the story of a swim with opened eyes, you watch down
there but they don't burn..a sea where you can go deeper and deeper
without being worried about arriving, you keep on going down and it
doesn't end...suddenly you don't know anymore where, how, why; you don't
care no more...you don't know anymore if you're inside the sea or the
sea is inside of you, or if you both are inside each other till the
infinite...Am i late for the show? Or the show has already
started?!..Are the doors closing, for the wind of my delay, behind my
back...are they out of the show? Or are they part of the story?...the
back-stage, on-stage, down the stage... before, after, the present...my
delay, the delay or punctuality of the pubblic, composed enity
itself...so you start opening the boxes again...and floating in the
connected galaxies...you find yourself sitting in a room....
Sitting on a couch; the sunset paints the walls, everything
seems quiet, steady...everything in its right place...and so i hear a
bzzzz-sound...like from a short-circuit..the sun shuts down and i remain
bymyself with my breath...i sit now in the silent darkness and calm
down my will of doing...i'm a spectator...
On my left el Niño lights up...he gets up, stretches and
looks around...he doesn't realize i'm there...a wooden, papier-mache
headed lamp...he looks in the mirror, trying to see his face...but he
can't, 'cause it's covered by the light he naturally produces...Suddenly
a noise, the kid turns around and look to the other side of the
room...he's ready for the duel...His opponent is a little roped puppet
resembling a samurai...He's standing on the sofa in the other side of
the room...From the top of the wall, at the same time, the
afro-wooden-mask wakes up and starts talking...
...far west....
The Duel
Here they were facing each other.
It was hot, raining, cold…a torrid, humid, dry
Incongruent wet wind was blowing..
Uuuuuu the wind howling
Meowing was the snow against the wiper on the frozen screen
Tic tic tic the sun was tapping on the stones..warming up souls and surroundings
That didn’t seem a quiet favourable climate…but time had come
for the showdown.
Here they were defiant and impavid, one in front of the other, one behind
the other , one above..the other beneath…
they wouldn’t show no sign of fear..tense like wood,
their bodies oozed with bravery from the ropes..
At every single step a galaxy would implode under their feet…
Over their heads polychromatic birds were shot by the rainbow…
Oxidized reflections would come up the wet pave..
He had to know…He had to know…
“Hey you, pig!! Have you ever seen my face?”
Here
they are the two rivals...but now in the “real” room..El Nino faces his
lil' friend El Samurai, a span in height...he's holding a lighter in
his hands tied up with long rolling papers, simulating a gun...the
question is extremely serious, like their games...El Nino is tired of
not being able to see his face, but El Samurai can't answer his
questions...the only who can do it is Don Anacleto, the wise in between
the two worlds...”And who's that?!”...El Samurai can't reply,
again...but El Nino is ready now to go the the Hill of the Answers...
Reflections
Cheerfully
they go around the room, they’ve been friends for a long time now and
every time that the Two-Foot goes out they meet to “paint” new worlds
where to play with their creativity. The room changes proportions, it
enlarges out of all proportions becoming an endless field where they can
start last fiber effort duels or it shrinks til burrows in caves where
they can chase each other…Once fantasy is on, the two little friends
leave for these brief eternal journeys with the bicycle and keep on
staring at the flowing sceneries even when the “game” is over..
Now El Niño’s questions create the landscape they’re going through…a huge room full of mirrors..”Is a reflection life itself?”..the
reflections crystalize and start floating in the air tinkling when they
hurt each other…a little breeze blows around, echo of a music box..a
wind of crystals softly hits the two riders that keep on going intrigued
in this new world of lights and reflections.”Is it real what we feel or simple elaborations?”
Streams of light pierce between their bodies and bounce on the mirrors
enlightening their clothes: mirth takes over while they ride this
carousel of lights and sounds. The bodies’ pixels crumble and recompose
themselves in front of their eyes, the bicycle becomes a train of a
mirror roller-coaster up and down, up and down..now they’re riding a a
sound wave..”Real is what it is, it just flourish around us”..Here
they are again chasing each other in a forest of lights, climbing
trees, swinging on ultraviolet creepers, jumping from a crystal to the
other they get to the mountainside..on the top of it two figures seem
dancing…”Just real, just real, beautifully real”…
End of the ride. The mountain is a shelf on top of the
couch..Don Anacleto is a bonsai, presumably dead, at his feet a funny
ceramic little man with a djembe..”Don Anacleto, can i talk to you for a
second?”
Don Anacleto
The musician starts
playing and strikes up a song..the bonsai, even if still cause dead,
seems talking himself..singing..he comes back to life and he dies
again..the leaves from the wood come up, strenghten and fall again
leaving Don Anacleto dry like before, but still in his dryness the tree
pours life. The two little friends stand there amazed in front of this
spectacle.
“The sun kissed the moon there, in that instant of desert..sand would flow from it in colours and vibrations”.
While they're listening
the ropes start loosening from Samurai and twirling around El Niño..hand
after hand, leg after leg, the trunk, all his body gets covered by the
ropes, under the pleased look of the AfroMask that keeps on smoking his
pipe. Finally also the luminous face of El Niño gets wrapped in the
ropes..he feels like a force drawing him, like being caught from the
head: it’s the mask that, once dragged a puff from the pipe, inhales
deeply sucking the metamorphosis of the two little kids..”What better
answer of a right question?”..And he smiles..
Birth
“I found myself sitting in a small terrace..external,
night..i don’t remember at all how did I get here, but i really don’t
care. I feel comfortable sitting under this little palm, everything’s
quiet..I’m drinking milk that leaks from the moon in a ceramic cup at my
side..I put it down, dip my finger in the liquid and then slightly i
run my fingers on the rim of the glass. The drop on the rim keeps on
twirling by itself and rises up in a spiral, a white spiral that becomes
a crane and flies away spreading its wings wider and wider high into
the starry sky.. I smile, look down..I’m sitting now at a tree in the
middle of a wheat field. Back observing the sky..the stars look more
alive than usual..one in particular..she seems dancing up there and she
raises a big dust of lights. Suddenly she stops, like she’s noticed I’m
observing her, and she falls down incredibly fast. Not even the time to
get aware of it and she’s into my stomach..an incredible sensation..like
having a baby huddled inside of me that start expanding and expanding
myself, making me lose any cognition of my physical limits..Now I
exhale..a light white dust escapes from my mouth and my nose and sinks
into my hands. Happy like I’ve never been, I act without thinking;
everything flows spontaneously. I throw the dust in the air and huddle
up, myself like a baby on the ground listening to the earth. It feels
like she’s talking to me, like my mom telling me a tale..the dust
becomes rain and falls again over me..i feel I’m still there, present, I
feel conscious of what is happening, but taking a better look around I
can’t see anymore my body. The rain has changed the vision of what is
surrounding me, making visible all the links..everything is a string
attached to another one and all are woven to the earth..i don’t need
eyes..”My heart is expanding”..The rain, falling on the roped body,
melts down the fibers of the kid..limbs melt down..only the heart
remains and keeps beating..and at any single pulsation it releases
flowers of all kinds and colours..
The mask has just finished his inspiration and with a smile on his face, slowly, exhale the smoke..
Spit out from a door, big flight and landing on a dune…
The Sleep-Dancer
A little dot emerges from
the sand and it starts vibrating..falling little stars come one after
the other all around it and blow in a whirl creating a nebula..from the
nebula purple crystals leak on the sand and make it blossom turning it
into clay..here he is from the skein..
“I come out from a dune..i
keep on being without memories…the sand, though, has a different
flavor..what am I doing in a desert? And what’s that gigantic tower over
there? Do I come from it..or from that little door there on top? Oh,
well..my bicycle..” He looks around with no worries, but he observes with curious eyes..he realize his body, now, is made of ropes..
“I’m your Sleep Dancer
Here I am y’all folks..
No fancy coat nor chic stick
I come to you with..
Just funny dance, oh my lil’ freak..
And simple coloured stories
sewn up my bare skin
vibrations and laces
all tied up from within
I’m your Sleep Dancer
Gently I run on this wheel of slippering memories
Softly they crash like mirror and float
On top of me and then rain
And there I am
Drinking of it grain after grain
Like from a pomegranate
And I feel this rhythm coming from my feet
Fire hidden in these shocks of sand
Uh, I got the beat..”
“I see colours all around and everything flows comic-wise..an uncontrollable joy takes over me..
and I can’t not run…and I can’t not dance".
.Dances the Sleep Dancer..dances…he dances and sips
black-holes..he runs through doors of other dimensions..he dances and
peels his bones..colours blossom again from underneath without
break..The Sleep Dancer runs..runs and he’s happy like a baby..he runs
and surfs on the dunes on a leaf…
The leaf now leans on a shore..Down this last dune, the
desert fades roughly in a thick black river..On the other side of the
river there’s a wall that shuts out the view of what’s beyond..but he
can glimpse flashes of colours even brighter than the ones he’s living
now…no bridges..no other access..the only way is that little light under
the wall..
”Always with absolute spontaneity, like I’ve already been
in these places, more than once, I jump high to dive and the river
englobes me without waiting me touching the surface of the water".
Death
Absolute
black. It doesn’t even look like a river..black like I’ve never seen
this thick..only coloured threads that appear and disappear here and
there…like sewing this big dark mantle..A thread becomes
tree..branch..leaf that takes out..a black cascade clumps between the
tree and the falling leaf, that touches the dark ground and becomes
again thread…from the thread a drop slowly stretches down and
detaches..a black cascade clumps behind the drop that falls and bounces
crashing in a new black cascade that implodes and blossoms again
becoming a door.. “Suspension, illusory end of combustion..Smoke
wafts from the cleft underneath the door..i open it..”Back-draft of
essence..and..Explosion!!”
Pieces of colour everywhere in this total darkness..coloured
threads floating in the air like ash..The shadow of a dragon is
burning..from his tail the fire spreads out and corrodes the banks of
the dam..the dam cracks out and the flood…a huge black flood overwhelms
everything..
“Absolute black..thick..I keep on walking..a feeling of
extreme freedom grabs me..a force that has not beginning nor an end..a
force of which I don’t understand the origin..but it penetrates me..it
invades me..I’ve got no more perception of time..the infinite is inside
of me..and I am infinite..I grasp two sudden threads..I curl them and
start juggling..in the distance I can see another door..this time it’s a
curtain made out of strings…I get close..and in the same moment I go
through it the threads of the curtain wrap me up giving me again
physical and visible consistency..in front of me a light that blinds
me..”
“Now it’s not with my eyes I can see..but with all my
body..i can feel everything that’s around me from the core deep inside
of me..”
In The Cosmos of the Colour
“It’s
an incredible world, out of any order of fantasy..Coloured threads
interweaving everywhere, colours melting one into the other, amazing
perfumes blowing like heady winds..an unbelievable party!! Slowly I walk through the trees..a
crazy rabbit comes towards me, jumping on a kangaroo tail and he sings
unspeakable melody launching his hat in the air..a bit behind there’s a
little chick that follows him cheep-panting..All around the plants spout
life in the rawest colours..everything is bound up..there’s no
interruptions of life..the wind sings with the birds and the branches
dance together with the flowers..Souls in the wild..a bit out of the
woods there’s a brook..a slug slides in spirals from a leaf and she
leaves a dribbling wake that mingles with the white of the clouds and
the red of the fishes..Life on its raw state!!An ultra-chromatic
snake comes out of the water..he slithers beside me and hisses a swing
beat .. his tongue sewn with flowers..I hear a crackle and all the
beach, suddenly, takes fire..the leaves and the branches keep on dancing
in the flames without getting consumed..the sand in the brook starts
wobbling in whirls..Party at the purest peak! The tide arises and so the
waves with it..colours jump out of the backwash’ foam and they join the
total dance..and so myself..I abandon all my essence in this endless
dance…My body spouts vibrations that tie up with the surrounding and I
feel like in suspension..protected by a tender hug..I’m not afraid of
falling, I’m not afraid of ending, I’m not afraid of an end..wrapped by
these uncountable arms…I’m Son of the Earth..”
So he crosses the brook and on the other bank he finds again his bicycle..sewn up on a tree..
Ride..(Smiles and Rides)
Here
he is on his bike...riding like he's never done before...his body
shines of celebration...He rides and smiles and he can't stop
whistling..he jumps, spins, dances even on the bicycle..Seems like the
bike is the natural extension of his legs...the ground flows beneath the
wheels like a dirty vynil...and the humid grass smoothes up the inertia
and it refreshes the air splashing up water...
He has no rush, no direction, no reason...pure being, pure estatic discovery...Moment after moment....”Why should i crave for eternity, eternity is right here
and i...
don't need to hurry or compete.. just Live!
don't need to hurry or compete.. just Live!”
...to be continued...
