I always thought I was going to start writing after I reached fifty, because by then I would have had something insightful to say, more experience and more wisdom. I was wrong! I write because I feel a pressure, a need, almost a willingness to communicate, because of new happenings in my life. Is there a right age for something? Learning, loving, feeling….or is it a drive inside you, an urge which invites you to come out and speak? I am like the day and you are like the night; I want to embrace the world, you want solitude; I need to energize, you need to cool down. How is it possible to meet? It’s possible. We don’t talk, but we share, passing the sensations to one another and completing the whole. Which corner, which side of the world do you want to see? The poor, the lucky, the healthy one? Or is your attention grabbed by dissolution, richness, restlessness? All different angles of the same reality. Which one are you willing to explore? It’s a search with no end, which carries you through them all and intertwines with the rest. And you discover the entirety of human complexity…. Who am I? One, nobody, a hundred-thousand people, like in Pirandello’s tale? I am a whisper, a little breeze, a gentle blow of soft wind wandering on top of multitudes. I wish I could shake the world, bring some bright light and painless moments of serenity, alleviate the suffering that many existences have to endure, warming hearts and souls. Do you want to take my hand and initiate together a chant which will diffuse a melodious sound till the end of the Universe? Can we change the course of life, can we inspire, motivate, encourage what it’s languishing beneath us? Can we reach new heights and disperse gleaming fine particles which, for a brief instant, can illuminate, like a radiant sun, lives otherwise dragged on? My far away companion: I embrace you because so was written. My other half: I’m coming. My other side of the medal: I dissolve into eternity.
