Red running througth us.
It appears proud in his tangibility and reveals itself in the apparent intangibility.
In any form, manifested or hidden, because in the shape, generated by matter, there is a constantly moving power.
It is in the cosmic force, in the universal primordial energy and in the human as well.
It is in our veins, as in our feelings.
It is life, it is life expectancy that is activated in a gesture.
It imposes in the impetuosity of emotions.
It runs through passage, regardless of everything.
It stops for cling to memories.
Il rosso che ci attraversa.
Si mostra fiero nella sua tangibilità e si svela nell’apparente intangibilità.
In ogni forma, palesato o nascosto, perché nella forma, generata dalla materia, c’è energia in continuo movimento.
E’ nella forza cosmica, nell’energia primordiale dell’universo come in quella dell’uomo.
E’ nelle nostre vene, come nei nostri sentimenti.
E’ vita, è speranza di vita che si attiva in un gesto.
S’impone. Nell’irruenza delle emozioni.
Nel passaggio corre, incurante di tutto.
Si ferma, per aggrapparsi ai ricordi.
Four people made their temporary home under the shade of a massive oak tree in a vacant lot sandwiched between a neighborhood convenience store and a strip center. It’s the part of town where you can buy anything you want and the police don’t pay much attention. As I approached, I got that same feeling I would get back in Junior High school when I walked past the kids cutting class as they would have a smoke or two. It felt like those kids felt free of the rules and regulations that I bound myself to. In part, I felt envious back then.
These people here in this vacant lot were seperated from the rest of society and its rules and responsibilities and here I am again, planted solidly in it. Here, in this self appointed sanctuary they made, they are safe from the world, for now, and are free to pass judgement upon me and the other fools that buy into the whole social contract thing. I tossed out a bottle water for each of them and talked a bit. No feelings of envy today, all I felt was sad. The words, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose…” from the song, Me and Bobby McGee came to mind. One man, Terry, was apart from the others. He was reading a worn paperback, the chapter heading, so aproposs—Into the Abyss.