I would write about New York from here.
But I can not. Some things I try just there, simply closing his eyes and breathing, trap air, noise and sound. Even the air in New York is special and if you breathe with your eyes closed You know exactly where you are. Are you in NY.
2/1/2005
are in NY for a few hours. I had a shower, chamomile, and now I write from my bed to a huge and half of Manhattan hotel where we are staying. The first impression was abrupt: chaotic, dirty, full of things that catches the eye of quell'accozzaglia marginally in American movies. Wooden houses, 1000 lights, garbage bags for the dark streets of Queens, strong smells, billions of advertising signs, lights in the skyscrapers in a honeycomb ...
Even now I feel it is behind the glass and that will never stop until a new day. It happens to all out there tonight
The metropolis of glass is like a heavy breathing into which all the sounds of America. It 's a notorious street with smoke coming out of the heat from the pavement. It 'a window with leaded panes in a rush on a roof deck to cross. And 'the Central Park where I meet an envoy of Rai 3 walks and I see that a huge lake on which birds Marine formed a band with their bodies. It is the palace of Gosthbusters. It 's a port city. E 'Brooklyn and many faces of farmers in the south that have started to live here a century ago. And 'the city of Oriana Fallaci, even if I did not find his house, but I knew it was there. E'l'abisso of Ground Zero seen at night in which crystals refract light and sink names of unsung heroes. It 'a flute sings God Bless America on a street corner. And 'Little Italy empty sad scene in a movie early twentieth century. And 'no homeless and wondering where is gone.
And 'look up and put a little' before finding the sky.
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