A WEEKEND IN BOLOGNA: FLEA MARKET

11:08 AM

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"A long time ago came a man on a track
 walking thirty miles with a pack on his back 
and he put down his load where he thought it was the best
made a home in the wilderness
 he built a cabin and a winter store

and he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore 
and the other travellers came riding down the track 
and they never went further, no, they never went back..."



-ITA-

Mi tornano in mente le parole dei Dire Straits. Basta un assolo per dire, non mi volterò indietro. Tanti oggetti intrisi di storie da raccontare, storie da rivivere e da ricucire a partire da dove si sono interrotte. E’ la cosa che più mi piace del vintage: sotto gli occhi immobili del tempo, le nostre dita possono attraversare il buio di tempi che ci sono stati solo accennati, per poterli rivivere senza avere il bisogno di parole superflue. Sono arrivati tempi difficili, è arrivata la guerra, e tutto è finito lasciando la rabbia che ancora vive nelle strade di quei nomi. E’ tardi, e su una strada di Bologna, il suo mercato di storie usate è già alle nostre spalle.

-ENG-

It reminds me 'bout a Dire Straits' song. A solo's saying, I'll never go back. Lots of things soaked with stories to be told, stories to be lived again, stiched from the moment they were interrupted. It's the vintage feature I like the most: under the motionless eyes of time, our fingers crossed with the darkest times, their stories only touched on. We can live them again without redundant words. Then there was the hard times then there was a war, everything has gone leaving the anger that lives on the streets with these names. It's getting late, on a street in Bologna, and it's flea market made of vintage stories it's already left behind. 

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