Written words are always sort of sleazy, once read they tend to dissolve in ether, at the most just remaining as distorted and far away echoes promptly absorbed by the immeasurable cosmic ear.

Most probably, being less obtuse and square than what I’m, an article or novel with such a title would never be published or proposed; the “dream story”, indeed, of many non-authors (as I’m):

“The Long Ride”.

It starts like this: “Gee-up!…clop-clop-clop…(for 800 pages)…clop..clop..clop (and it ends)…whoa!!!

Only a dream article/novel?…why?
Because, alas! No one would ever read such a boring tale.
Not me.
In fact and definitely, reading something means entering in a world of blacks and whites, hardly possible, nevertheless so suggestive, magical and magisterially orchestrated that who reads it can extrapolate from the surrounding world by entering body and soul in the recounted story.

However…however!!! Written words are always sort of sleazy, once read they tend to dissolve in ether, at the most just remaining as distorted and far away echoes promptly absorbed by the immeasurable cosmic ear.

But here I should stop, if not for any other reason than risking to fall in that ephemeral philosophy from which I’m just trying to escape…but who knows!?, perhaps one enlightened day such beautiful Novel will be told. In words? Doubtfully!…but hopefully.

Meanwhile let’s just try to…sit silently, doing nothing while the Grass growth by itself…Bamboo!!!???…

Whoa…!




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