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The fog clears ...

Ciao a tutti voi,
eccoci finalmente riemersi dalla nebbia che ci ha tenuti lontani dal blog per così tanto tempo.
Spero di farmi perdonare per la prolungata assenza dalla rete con qualche post goloso!
Buon vento a tutti!
Matteo

Long Hair Elly Jackson

We never change, do we?

La probabile copertina del nuovo libro illustrato che sto preparando con il mio caro cugino, Filippo Ferlazzo


....

Volete sentire una bella storia?

Adesso, qui, in questo coffee shop mentre ascolto We Never change dei Coldplay vado indietro con gli anni…
And I can not forget it. We never change, do we? You'll know what I think, that never slips from my mind, I remained stuck in
You Coldplay
E 'of U2's With or Without You
E' To Sheila whispered by Billie Corgan
It 's the school desk averages nibbled and plastic in green, while at the mine. It 's my compass in his back, a smile and a tear to cry strange, unusual blue eyes
And then most of the sea. That in the picture he sent me a letter like two wells graceful, deep, and eager to distill essences
Really some things change, others never change ... my essay, Black Morpheus, how many do you know

And so, here in Dampkrin colored orange, with gabled windows on the corner of the street, I think of a good story.
Start with my message, wrapped in roses, electronically, through the air, brings an invitation.
Hello! You know, I settled here in Amsterdam. Like, you ChiQ. Aspect of work. Come and find me?
And then
PS: I swear that I will eat you! It will be like in Venice
No, better not tell the Post, too strong.
you still transcends my natural ability to understand many things from people only look at the gestures and listening to words. You are butter, margarine particular, that does not grasp, that you do not have.
At least not me.
Just as well, most wood burning fire of my pure desire.
And in this beautiful fairy tale, she answers without much prevarication: Sure, why not? I'm free on weekends, a trip I do. Just work!: (And I put a bit of an emoticon 'dementia that make me laugh so much.
And then you come here
And maybe for once I hold in my hand. There will be warmth
The first time I fell in sea, the sea, I felt slightly cold. And then a boatman, who brought the news:
She is elusive. A little 'like you.
drops of mercury-free for any kind of gravity.

And you, my half water, which is in Amsterdam under the psychotropic drugs do not know what peace of mind, and better than ever gets off the plane
You again .. but we should not see each other anymore? And the most hilarious of Baptists abandon my body with little meat and some bones and spirit became, pure radiance. The drag on the stars on the Persian rug, drinking a cup of tea on the tiles of the Grasshopper, between light emerald green and the murmur of the Damrak. And she is at home - for the first time-with me, and not afraid of silences. Waiting for them even to ask me many things. The years in Sicily. The sentences of the heart. My perspective, and passion for art. My love for her, that from time to time but always change the flowers blooming splende. E poi guardiamo i led verdeacqua riflessi nel fumo della sigaretta, mangiamo la torta di mele, e finiamo nella mia piccola casa sull’acqua.
E li.. lei cercherà fuori, oltre il vetro per trovare le parole. Come se fossero nascoste dietro le tende, al di là del delta... Le parole che non trova ma che dentro di sé già possiede.

Ed io la stringerò un attimo. Guarderò in basso e farò il mio solito sorriso sghembo, quello viola ed allungato che piace a mio cugino Filippo. Dopotutto, le parole non sempre servono.
Sogneremo di rubare le barche nel molo.
Magari per navigare fino a quella Londra che tanto le piace
Disegnerò un po’ di stelle su soffitto per rendere la mia stanza
wait more comfortable that the walls are down to better hear the gulls sing. Goodbye good luck with the silence and the distance will be an enemy.
The smell of the wind that carries the shells from the ocean so far we close the eyes, on piano Mellon Collie ...
She will tighten strong, just like you, as if it were the only
,
like a queen, as my mother. How
Maria Cristina Ricci Vincent Gallo embraces in that funny movie. Urban

My Dear Girl Wonder ... yet you? And we laugh.

A fairy tale is a fairy tale, and usually has an ending. My hand has only one purpose, because suddenly the flame onirica diventa luminosa ed implode, finchè mi restano tra i polpastrelli solo dei coriandoli di cenere neri più del carbone e bianchi come il latte.
Non credo Lei mi verrà a trovare.
So, la visione termina qui, sull’ ultimo accordo minore della canzone di Parachutes. Diventa inchiostro, e fluisce nel boccettino di china che domani andrò ad esplorare
Il soggetto?
Io e te, stretti come Vincent Gallo e Maria Cristina Ricci.
So noir, so sweet

Tanto lo so che non vieni.. si si
We never change, do we?