Seven songs to fly
I have this project to become a bird: let's call it obsession or, for the more restrained, very violent desire. I have made this decision to understand life as a symphony composed of different emotional movements. let's call it obstinacy or, for the more restrained, natural evolution of events. all feelings can be heard and even silence reveals the vibrations emanating from everything that ever lived. or moved. from the beats of the Yeats' heart to the tree branch whose break nobody noticed. i have this project to compose seven songs to fly. for each one, i will choose a company (be it a person or a ghost). Let's call it commitment to the dream.
The possible seven titles: The human voice of the bird. Exhibition of broken wings. The death of the seagull which, after all, was a swan. The arms of the gull's wings which, after all, was a swan. Building birds with one's own hands (a trip to Russia). Bird's eye of fire. And failed composition between corners.
I have this project: it will last a year and a half.
(It's just that learning a flight tends to be slow.
But the sky can still be wide.
And, perhaps, out of tune).