|I, too, alone, I want to wish me something. I would like to get on the bell tower, on a cloud, not to be
scratched from that damn wind that comes from afar. I want to wish me to learn a strange language, to
know how to comb myself, to dress stylish and to become a true story. I wish a lot of things that will
not come true, then what is the point? Poor window, how many things you promised me, how much
light you have poured on me, how many illusions! I lost a lot of time, I sent many letters, with my
hopes, my joy, my youth inside, and I am still waiting, in vain, the answers. I hope not to have the
wrong address, not having to start every time the phone rings, at every bell sound, at every scream
every time the earth shakes, every time my heart dies. Dull eyes, long beard; and to think that I was
born in a warm day, in a blessed land that I barely trample on to avoid raising dust that is not mine. I
was born to dream, I am the son of stars, I am living ash; photographer of a gone time, of strange
places, of lost islands, where I would have liked to live among people like me, between giants and
polished stones, among dry stone walls and ruined columns, among the vestiges of a glorious
What can I hope to myself, now that I can hardly laugh about time passing and sun setting on the
memories of my irreproachable past? I hope that my screams, my colors, my forms, do not disturb
poor people; I will dare to deal with negative opinions, morning anxieties, my letters coming back.
I also lost the keys of the last drawer, of my last dream, under a mountain of many other things.
I hope to be able to shut up and to paint the world in my own way, to be able to read silently and skid
with phrases, somehow drunk of loneliness, a tree without his shadow. I close my eyes and I apologize,
I forgive myself, I grant eveyrthing to myself, and I wish myself all the best, I put on my glasses, and I
stand on a very high point, on a cloud, from where I started, a fleeting cloud, and I sigh deeply, so to
fill my time and discuss with the stars.
With hands through my hair, I squeeze the nose and I remember where I come from, maybe I will
become a national monument, a mighty amphitheater and I will play just for you, who managed to bear
me, who always wait for me and for that I would like to be music, to invite you dancing and my wish
will come true, because I have been a great artist just for you.