qui un piccolo riassunto di cosa e´successo dai tempi della neve ad ora per chi non conoscesse la storia.
e´parte di una lettera che ho scritto in inglese..quindi fate un bel copia incolla in un programma di traduzione se non sapete l´inglese
parked in this corner in the center of mexico there is a car today.
in the back rounded green hills with cactus. wasted and twisted bus are cutting lines in the quiete tuesday.
if your eyes get closer you will see a red hopefully point called "hope".
It´s an inusual scene.
there is a horse toy in the front bumber and bambus.love is wrote in one side of the car.
there are 2 guys on the roof and 2 inside,
3 are sleeping 1 is writing.
he´s a dreamer and you can see right now that is mind is in the land of dreams.His mind is in the cold white magic mountains.
his mind is imagining his far love.love as love is for the mother earth, for the leafs and the trees; love as romantic love.that love goes to nanette; a name, a face, a memory. his far sweet lady left in the magic north long time ago.
but now more friends came here in mexico and the red car is now moving.
the story tell that his name is jonny avventura.
he walked long way to be here.
long white and cold roads brought him away from that love that inspired him faith under magic big snow flakes and northern lights. eyes that i wouldn´t never forget
so many magic moments where innocent eyes full of joy stear at eachother with that breeze of cold wind coming fom the wild , making everything more alive.
the yukon river was starting to crack when that red car left with jonny.
The warm love was left behind cause the time decided that.
memories, a couple of pictures, one book and a soul full of love and white trees filled up the car with him
time went fast and the road rolled slow under different wheels
jonny drove hope and hope rode with jonny trough the snowy BC, montana and wyoming.
they escaped a big stupid fight jumping in a women´s bed just in time, running the morning after down the far west.
they crossed under full bright sky colorado.
dreadlock looked his hairs while climbing a golden canyon.
in the deepest heart of the colorado highest mountain hope stopped his run. jonny stopped too building fences in the wild place for to do some cash.
with those few money in his pocket got his bus ticket to las vegas and after many adventures finally saw him getting to the dreamed San Francisco
there he jumpt on an old motorcycle and crossed mountains and desert. he found ice, snow, and sand storm
in 2 days the termometer went from -5 to +45 celsius. the elevetion from 3000metres to -60 metres
he climbed unimaginable rocks hanging in thin cracks in the yosemite valley, brought his respect to the oldest living trre, slept in the lonely death valley with rocks as only friend watching the sunrise. he spit his soul out at the iron maiden concert in los angeles and got popcorn to the kid inside him in disneyland.
left the motorcycle in a yoga indu´farm out of los angeles hitched a ride to get stuck somewhere.
surviving that situation walking back into the higway in a desert´s summer got finnaly back to san francisco.
he got a bicycle and rode 600kilometers down the california´s coast, than sold the bike and hitchicked back to his motorcycle.
was now time to cross the deserts.
one morning when only the birds were breaking the quiete concert of the leafs he took to road for the extreme south, were the roads end.
only one other man can remeber that; bended on his knees planting eggplants the old joe, the dharma bum, was waving his hand to jonny smiling in the sunrise inside his helmet.
no words where sad
he crossed the california desert, swet dry to the bones trough nevada gambling his soul running faster than the law without clothes in vegas. his souls was purified one night alone on the edge of the gran canyon.
the hit went up even more till the rear tire blowed up crossing fast like man´s mind arizona.
1 day the smell told him that was in mexico. the smell of true southern life. the road changed
sonora, sinaloa and than the rain. the desert that kill the silly man was gone. in the clouds after the storm saw the end of the road in his head.it was damn far but he knew is determination.
in the middle of nowhere the motorcycle brake down. same his heart. a doubt appeared
the time stopped but not the rain. jonny was lining on a wasted bed in a cheap hotel in mazatlan. the fan of the ceiling was spinning slow moving emotion around. the old green painting was trying to put some hope bau was speaking with melancoholic words
too many question!
jonny, drunk in a dangerous cantina decided was time to stop. 2 friends important as his same life where coming to mexico in 2 months. jonny decided to invent his self mexican.
the light appeared trough the never ending rain and a dark dangerous gravel road that welcomed him in guadalajara told him the place to go.
the coin was spinning in the air
head north. tail south.
baja california sur.
jonny didn´t question.
the road was speaking to him.
no more time for plan; he just abandoned himself to the pure flow and left the morning after.
he got there ready to listen
sicerly the second night that he was sleeping in the beach with the homeless, after the motorcycle brake down forever, stinking as a wet dog he had a doubt.
2 days after he got the answer. was a yellow big house with a palapa roof. there was the learning there, and people he wouldn´t forget. was art, yoga , breathing, work, music and knowledge. a deepest cosmovision
jonny worked, played, surfed and he became a good student. he learnt till the day "hope" the car came with one of his brother of the road
the deep moments of joy and understanding that cannot be expressed with words if not, love, painted pink the sky and wrote the end to that time in baja california
the road began again to roll under the wheels to join the other friend coming from the old continet across the ocean; from the mad beautiful italy to ciutad de mexico
now is the time of today where "hope" parked jonny, filippo and alessandro in the colorfull city of guanajato to search the way of the art. as expression. as comunication.