Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)


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GAME OF THE YEAR

Dense and dark word. In the afternoon I follow Textxu and his friend by bike. They bring me to see the black oil reservoir. And I think over that thing of the system we live in and that shapes and requires meaningless lives. And how this thing is cancellation of the understanding of yourself. And I think of the usual that absorbs and normalizes and to which time surrenders. And we die. An upset corpse. This time my personal reason. I say goodbye to Txetxu and his friend. And now I look for a place to sleep.

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I stop at the mechanic that fixes tractors. He seems to me the right person. The mechanic that fixes tractors takes a rag and he leaves me 85 oz of transmission oil and w gears oil. Ahead toward the Cantabria. Alteration page 98 Without soul nor thought along roads that surround mountains, which plunge in desolated plains or through hidden valleys among rocky scarps.

Landscapes are passed through like veils. Fantasy is grown following the road. And we reach the sea. A sensitive mechanics. The sea 1 or night by the sea page 99 And we arrive. At the sea, I mean. In Asturia. And we sleep there. The night by the sea is one of those nights in which you sneak into the sleeping bag and close your eyes. And you listen to the white noise that repeats itself. And you stay still with the head on the wine colored sweatshirt.

And you listen. And you wish time would stop. In the quietness that all you do and are, you feel and live will no longer be. And letting yourself go to the waves. And falling asleep. The sea 2 or morning by the sea page The morning by the sea you open your eyes.

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Thoughtless you wear your clothes, take everything off the tent, fold the tent, arrange everything in bags, put the bags on the Meccanica, fix up the Meccanica for the forthcoming rain, fix yourself up. And it rains. You wear the rainproof overalls, check everything, check again and you are afraid the wet will prevent you from getting out of there.


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The Meccanica starts. You get out of there. The morning by the sea is one of those mornings in which you have ghosts as companions. You are with the soul reduced to a tangled up skein while the mechanical consort beats in the North of Spain. Green plastic forests or fava beans page Pine and oaks forests and then chestnut trees and oaks again.

All stretches towards south while we try to get out from the rain. And the day goes by. From the road a village in the distance on the left turning page. The same village in proximity on the right turning page. I sharpen her knives. She cooks for me the meal of the champion. I set the bike. And sharpen beautiful blades. So far gone through the Alps and the Pyrenees, Po valley broths and sunny plains, desolated uplands and vineyard hills and again mountains and all sorts of vegetation.

So far so good.

Boundaries and stereotypes (or what is the use of football, if any indeed?)

So far slept on different seas and rivers, in the hills and in the mountains, hidden or in villages. So far sharpened all sorts of blades of all sorts of small villages. A good smell. And this time it has to do with some small fishes in the water.

So, the water is common thing. So, this thing of the journey gives the possibility of a perspective. Because choosing is important. Now, the Meccanica and I head to this thing of the microclimate that apparently guarantees cannonball sun after days of water. A night on the border and the boat to Portugal page Being one with the miles that stretch out before the wheel. A good place for the tent is found. The abandonment of the day terminates in this countryside for one night on the border.

I feel. And when I feel the brain sleeps. And I have the impression that the experience is to look for yourself without meeting. I think that the matter potentially contains those forms that intellect abstracts. The Meccanica is material and thus power in power.

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Outcome of a lot of work. And the Meccanica and what brought it to surface is dedicated to the shoulder, to goodear people. We cross the border between Spain and Portugal. Being one with the miles that stretch out before the wheel. The abandonment of the day terminates in this pasture for one night in Portugal. Speechless cows page This morning the cows woke me up. The cows where accompanied by a shepherd. A handshake.


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  5. A smile. And we understood each other. A sickle month page I sharpen a sickle to the lady next door. I take the picture of here on the next page. And I thought that I have the sign of the helmet on the forehead. Like a callus. And for some mental association I thought that in Morocco those who do a lot of prayers have a sort of bump in the middle of the forehead. And they carry it around all proud of it. A matter of rhythm, which then I mean, is everything page A matter of rhythm. A matter for me fundamental. I say goodbye to the village of Ferral.

    We cross an upland of acid pine land and then the smooth hills where the grape grows of Porto wine. The rhythm in a journey, or at least for how I mean it, is everything. And the rhythm comes and goes, apex and abyss.

    Index of /page_1

    So, yesterday the rhythm skipped. And I know myself well enough and I know the rhythm well, too. And the good, the right thing of a tale made this way is that it is what it is, no fiction, rather fantasy but no fiction. So, with the needed timing, we head south, we go to the western point of this Europe, which is then the stated destination from the beginning of the journey.

    And the motorcycle and the motorcyclist will close the tale because the rhythm says so. And the rhythm in a journey, or at least for how I mean it, is everything. In a residencial along the way I exchange night stay and dinner sharpening knives and axes and selling the by now legendary potato peelers.

    I ask a person. I ask someone. I ask many.

    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition) Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)
    Voltando pagina (La cultura) (Italian Edition)

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