Clouds is the first track of the album ” La fabbrica delle nuvole “, it was born one afternoon many years ago, when I was in Playa Grande, a place on the sea, where once in a while, I find refuge, I walk and look at the clouds pass over the shores of the Mediterranean. I remember that autumn afternoon there was not a soul around me, I lied down and I fell asleep in the sand dunes by the sea.
When I woke up I started writing words on sheets of paper.
I gave a title to those thoughts:
“Il mio mondo”
The delicate and relaxing sound of the sea enters right into my ears, into my brain.
The waves reach the shore with the company of the wind, their last trip is destined to break and die after a short life.
Immersed in this paradise, my thoughts are guided by the sound of the seagulls that fly and float in that large element that is air.
I see the clouds pass by, they transform every second.
I see snails dance in the sky, crocodiles open their mouths and shout mute sentences to the universe.
I see elves dancing and giant eagles fly towards the dusk.
The day is almost over.
Looking for answers …
The agony to my questions remains silent in this place, in this small space on the planet that now I contemplate.
What I actually do not hear, what every day I do not perceive, I find it here, in my world.
I look around, beyond my view I see nothing, as if my thoughts do not go beyond those boundaries I contemplate, it is as if outside this large room there was only evil.
From a distance two lovers kiss on a bench, they show the warmth inside them, they hug and participate in the great game of love.
The wind’s hand touches gently the branches of the trees. Behind the sand dunes rushes move in a convulsive dance, where the reeds bow, they get up and turn on themselves.
Sometimes the ball of the sun is covered by fantastic figures that run after each other in an eternal game. Gaudy and dark colours surround myself.
Enraptured by this beauty, I close my eyes.
From this experience the concept of the “La Fabbrica delle Nuvole” begins to take shape.
Returning home, I began to think that all those Clouds came from a little house surrounded by mountains far away, a small factory with a spinning wheel that collects the splashes from a waterfall and rainbow; between its walls, rusty mechanisms and from the roof a long chimney puffing steam dispersing it into the wind.
After many years from that afternoon, the dreamlike image of that little house in the mountains has gradually acquired an important meaning for me. Now I see those rusty mechanisms of that factory, turning inside our heads and every time that the mechanisms work, something beautiful happens. Like a pressure saucepan where everything remains trapped, but there is also a pressure valve:
the valve sometimes opens and we smile, we shout and feel emotions, expression of the beauty and nature we keep inside. Everything comes out in the form of steam, and from the chimneys of our imagination the Clouds (Nuvole) take shape: poetry, music, forms of art, wonderful expressions of beauty that everyone of us hides.
The Factory of Clouds (Fabbrica delle Nuvole) is a little rusty, with creaky and poorly functioning mechanisms, but as long as it moves, its chimneys will puff steam and the child inside us will rejoice at the sight of colourful figures dancing in the red twilight sky.
Among the rusty mechanisms of the Factory
Clouds take shape
Fragments of dreams
Reflections of now distant life …
They break, they melt and then evaporate
from the chimneys of our imagination