An old woman from bretone*
with a hat and an umbrella from paper of rice and cane of bamboo.
Brave captains
smart macedonian (hmmm ) smugglers.
euclidean Jesuits
dressed with bronze clothes in order to enter in the court of the emperors
of Ming’s dynasty.
I look for a center of permanent gravity
in order never to make me change idea about things on people
I’m in need of…
I look for a centre
In the streets of Beijing they were days of May
between us it was joked to collect nettles.
i cannot stand the russian choruses
the music pretended (to be) rock, the italian new wave , the free jazz, English punk.
Not even the black african.
I look for a centre
I’m in need of…
I look for a centre