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go to a festival of the book without money is like having a bottle of wine but no corkscrew.
In three hours of walking through the stands I noted, almost in vain, all the books that I wanted buy. Cinema through the mirror. At least the bread, Fidel. The prejudices against Gypsies explained to my dog. With almond-shaped eyes. I wanted to Ringo Starr. The archetypes of the cinema of fear. Saxophone Street Blues. The city of oblivion. April is the cruelest month. The man without a past. And many, very many, perhaps too many others.
Yesterday the smell of printed paper as strong as I felt when I was a kid and I had my words. Probably my mom I already imagined writer or journalist, who knows. Maybe I imagined it as well and I was all visionary was certainly better than now, I am unable to imagine any role, profession, city.
E Speaking of "visionary", I thought of the film shot with the camera dad. Stuff that I hope has disappeared into thin air during some move. What then if I were absurd to find the tape, no doubt end up in the annals of the history of Italian cinema to be the first feature film actors in the flesh without bones, with a single voice actor (which was also the director, cameraman, director of photography etc.. then .. that was me), with two extras, with the fake blood that tastes like blueberry and a location inaccessible to most.
I have to try that tape. And 'the testimony of one of the many crafts that I wanted to shoot a child. Director, writer, journalist, stage actress, dancer, astronaut, selling sweets, salami, herbalists, criminal psychologist, drummer, singer, guitarist, bassist, bass, piano ....