Stories, fragments of life for a generational biography, ’77, Bologna, the revolt… Far away, in places where desire never ends, where words lose all meaning, where staying or leaving weighs equally on the will. I could have gone back. Go home, go back to bed and continue to act as if everything was as before, as if nothing had happened. But now it was no longer as before… Painting life before existence paints us. Stories, fragments of life for a generational biography, ’77, Bologna, the revolt… meanwhile the dream moves away but despite this the legs do not stop walking towards it. Screams, whispers, bursts of joy and roars of anger, condensed into words for hearts that do not stop beating left-handed.
