I missed the Theatre, I missed the adrenaline, I missed being and doing something else.
I have missed expressing what I have inside in the most beautiful way I know.
From 2020, from the pandemic …
From all the shit rained down on me to date, in which I missed having the right space to “heal” like the air
It’s all so absurd,
It is perhaps even exaggerated to think so out of a passion, I don’t know.
And then you start thinking that you don’t give a damn about who’s gone if today you see that there are people who accept you much better and have filled that useless void.
But that’s okay: I feel like an acrobat, as in the recited poem, The Acrobat: https://www.writingcities.com/2016/07/03/6162/
The end of a journey that can be said to have started not in 2021, but in 2019.
Since then, too much have passed.
And then these dark years, in which I couldn’t wait to go back to my great passion, theater.
And nothing, as I know he says in the bitter montenegro ad: “It seemed impossible but we had done it”.
Before returning home, I tell Giovanni: “this is the last time we will see this place”.
Maybe not true, I was tipsy and fooling around as usual.
I did not know that our Adele immortalized the moment that from the goliardic has turned a bit into a romantic one.
It is all very beautiful.
A hug.
.
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Lo scrittore Volante 