She constantly moves from city to city. She has no problem abandoning the familiar and embracing the cold seductive charm of the unknown. The beginning of the utopia is the bus, and the end of it. It’s all a full, perfect, vicious circle, like a story ending in itself, reproducing itself over and over again, like an open-ended tale.
She anxiously worries about losing her ticket, her ticket to the land where dreams happen, where night drags itself for longer than usual. She gets on the bus, and stares out of the window, glancing at the landscapes running like wild animals, trying to escape from forgetfulness, trying to gain forever. They look like hastily sketched cities with a gloomy background.
At night, these towns seem to be lost in a black sea of no beginning and no ending, of no evident limits. To the traveler, they look like small spots of light breaking into the dark background of the winter night, as if the painter spilled his entire white colour onto the canvas. After a while, they are lost, like humans who cannot swim, under the surface of vengeful nature, who sucks in all the outcasts that dare challenge its laws.
In the city itself, the initial impressions are always discouraging. This seemingly cozy town attacks the potential tourist with snow, wind and rain to keep them away from its heart. Little does it know that the ones who persist will eventually unlock the surprises hidden beyond the vengeful, dark soul.
The city is full of romance and vibrant souls, singing, dancing, and concealing themselves in cozy little spots in order to be protected from the harsh face. She enjoys love, fun, laughter and simple sips of hot chocolate that make everything better, friendlier; all until she has to get back, and rewrite new memories on top of the ones just made.
It’s hard to leave but harder to stay. Seasons are swiftly changing, bringing about duties that have to be fulfilled. She bids her boy goodbye and gets on the bus once more. It’s nighttime, now, and there is no safe haven for her to look at and forget her destination. It’s all a black sea, an abstract, surrealist canvas. Here and there, spots of light are scattered, slowly descending into forgetfulness and abandonment.
And behind her back, the town she just left becomes but a small light dot in the horizon, drawn into the vengeful natural processes, and she eagerly waits for the next taste of frozen fire, of unfamiliar darkness. And one day she will be able to hold the frozen light of this now unfamiliar city in her hands, and it will no longer be but a small dot in the horizon; they will no longer play hide and seek. It is going to shine, again and again, like an enormous heart awaiting the traveler and welcoming them into her wide arms…
In bianco e nero 