Thus, after some days sleeping in the middle of the shrubs, dreaming with my doubles, I’m leaving the roundabout now, and then, there I go,
walking along some earthy roads, meandering through a mountain range, and at some point, some kind of three-wheeled motorcycle is actually passing by my side and without coming to a complete stop, its driver, a chubby middle-aged man with grayish tousled hair fluttering with the wind, is already making some signs for me to jump on his vee-hiccle, and so, said and done, there I go, already jumping on the back of his cart, placing my feet over the brims of the rear axle, my hands holding the back of the driver’s seat. And thus, this way, we follow along a zigzagging provincial road, going up and down through a hillside filled with shrubs, groves, fields of cultivation, and so, here and there the farmers are even waving at us as we pass by, and we, also waving at some of them, as we advance. And then, after the cultivation fields are gone, we are actually entering a pine forest, and at some point, the driver starts wagging his arm around, pointing to the surrounding landscapes, while saying something like, "through this pine forests I used to roam, this is, from pinewood to pinewood I used to go, on the search of the sap… I mean, I used to be a resin collector… and so, I may also say, I had no family or house of mine, this is, all the money I used to get with this resin work, would be spent at the local tavern or at the local whores houses... until that… a bad day came, this is, something happened and, I felt in a pit, and, I could never walk again… this is, God punished me, I don't know why... me, that was already miserable... anyway, I could no longer work, but people would help me, because I have helped them before, this is, above all, they bought me this machine so I can keep moving around… I can continue to run through all the taverns, and, this is, I take the news from here to there, from this to that tavern, and when there is no news, I invent them... that's my job now... you know… I became some kind of messenger… and so, now tell me, what about you, what have you been into? And, where do you wanna go? What's your destination?”; “Well, I have no proper destination” I say, “I just wanna go, somewhere…”; “So, don't you have a family to stay with?” he asks then, “I’m not sure about that… I guess I passed through a long coma, I forgot all about my past, and, this is, I don't know from where I came, and I don't know where I’m going!”; “Hum, I see now…” exclaims Albino, “so, we are brothers with similar backgrounds…” and then he turns up the radio volume, and there we go, advancing through this pine forest, listening to some sort of classic music, some “gnossiennes”, some “nocturnes”, and even some “fugues”, all this punctuated by a pleasant southeast wind, dripping against our faces and imagination, and then, after leaving the forest, we stop at the tavern on the roadside, and as it goes, after getting out of this strange vehicle, I also help Albino to get off, this is, I pass him his crouches, I let him hold himself on my back, and there we go, slowly advancing to the tavern’s entrance. And then, already inside, the taverna man, a man with big sideburns is already saluting both of us with a mischievous smiley, and so, as I look around, I see that there are only two or three persons seated at the tables around, this is, at on of this tables a small man with a strange mustache is holding a small accordion attached to his chest, the so called concertina, and the man on his side have red pimples on the nose, and there are also other two men on the side table, one has hair coming out of his hears, and the other one is wearing a funny beret. And so, we seat on the third table, and as we seat, wine is already coming to our table, and then, in the meanwhile, the concertina player is already opening the bellows, making the air coming in, and then he stops, with this totally distended leather lung on his front, now throwing a deep look over us and then over the two friends on his side, as if, in a mood to eat them. And thus, now, the one with the more scavenged face, is already licking his lips, and then, he begins like this "Here we are now my friends and fiends and so, this is, here you are and here I’m, singing to all the stepsisters and stepbrothers of the world… waiting to put the hands on the dough” and then, after a short solo by the accordionist, the other guy, this is, the one with hair coming out of the hears, continues like this "Yes that's right, here we are, and there you go, already crying like a toad on the loo…” and as it goes, I keep drinking glass after glass, and at some point I see Albino throwing logs on the fire, and then, after another small solo from the concertina player, we know, it’s his time to enter in the duel, and so, he goes on like this “Yes oh Joshua oh Joshuoh… from whose is the fault we should apurate nowha... who to blame after all, hua hua owoh... the abominable snowmen or the gullible postmanuah”. And then, after a while, also comes my time to enter in this ditty, and so, I have no chance, there I have go, moaning and groaning words and forbs with no meaning, and once again, I get kicked out of this place because things I didn’t want to say and then I’m on the road again. Again advancing through this mountain range, going up and down, and so, after hours without spotting any kind of car, a brand new jeep comes by, and, as a start, we begin a conversation about experimental music, free-jazz, Stockhausen, John Zorn etc. And then, at some point, he even goes on telling me some details about his ex-wife etc and then, he begins a confusing speech about fashion that goes like this: "When the future is threatening and uncertain... there is the retraction... the retraction of the present that is constantly being protected, arranged and recycled in an endless youth... while putting the future in parentheses, the system proceeds... the devaluation of the past... impatient... for cutting off the chains of archaic traditions and territorialities... and for instituting a society without a base of anchorage or opacity... and together with an indifference to historical time... collective narcissism is established... a clear symptom of the generalized crisis of the… since the jeans, the fashion has not stopped to promote the original clothing of the working class, the army and sports... bib pants... napkins... parkas and the sailor jacket, the jogging style... peasant skirts... the frivolous one identifying himself with the serious and the functional... and in doing so it adopts an explicitly parody style... imitating utilitarian clothes, fashion maladjust its points of reference... the solemnity dissipates and the forms lose what they could have to be polished or studied. Fashion and its exterior cease to be radically opposed... in parallel with the movement, everywhere visible, denial of oppositions... fashion today belongs to the sloppy, relaxed... the new must seem used and the studied spontaneous... a more sophisticated fashion imitates and parodies the natural..." and then I’m vomiting on the cockpit of the car, and so, when he stops, I straight away open the door and there I go, running down the slope, passing some boulders, running over some coarse bushes, and then, debouching at another earth path, I keep going down though a series of forest roads, still thinking about my queen of none, and then, seduced by the moon, I jump into a yard on the back of some farm house, and as I go through, I see the scarecrows, and then, I climb one of these fruit trees, and guess what, I haven't eaten anything for days, so, these unknown fruits from the moon are tasting amazing. And, I even have to say, from here, the world looks like an amazing place, so, I take my time ingesting these gifts from the cosmos. And just then I see, on the upper side of the yards, some lights, and so, after quenching my hunger and thirst I come down and stealthy, move along this flabby cultivated land, already approaching some of those farm houses with light on the windows. And so, protected by some shrubs on the fences, I spy the insides of one of these illuminated windows. And, effectively, from here I can see a proper family in the dining room, man, woman, and children. And, this is, by now the kids are messing with some stuff under the table and the mother is warning them, but they don't stop. Then, the man is admonishing the woman and the woman is threatening the man. Thereupon, the man stands up and hits the children. And as it goes, at some point, I decide to throw some stones at their window and quickly I get off, and so, there I go, running along the yard, jumping the fences and coming back to the road, a different road now, made of cracked tarmac, a village road. And as I go through, there are some yellowish lights here and there, but no people. And many abandonments, many rotten houses. And so, here I go now, walking through this apparently abandoned village, still thinking about my Queen of None, and then, more into the center of this town, I find the fire brigade building, and I see, there are some lights inside, so, I decide to try my luck, and therefore, I press a button by the main gate, and afterwards I can hear real bells ringing inside, and so, after a while someone comes to see me at the gate, first one, then two, after a group of them. At first, the peace soldiers do not understand my language, so I have to make some signs with the hands in order to pass my message, but even this way they still do not understand me, so someone goes back to call the transmissions man, and here he is now, a pale dude that can speak some dozens of languages and also understands about sign language, and so, I’m happy now, finally someone that could understood me, and then he kinda tells me that this village is cursed, so that's why almost everybody emigrated. And to this I just say “that isn’t a problem to me, I’m some kind of gosh too”. So, then, this man starts to talk in other kinds of languages, maybe testing me, and me also speaking different idioms, we both testing each other. And while we establish communications, the other firemen, around a dozen, are standing there, on our back, looking at me and to the translator with some expectation. And of course, they all want to know who I am, and from where I come from, and what I’m doing here, or there. And so, taking his time, calmly the transmissions man turns to them and starts to explain that I’m just some kind of vagabond looking for a place to stay, plus adding, that, I’m actually coming from far far away and so, I have just arrived here after weeks, months, years of hitching all around the world. And then, more he informs, to satisfy their curiosity, that I may be someone from the “Tauramataras, a extinguished country, now submerged under water”. And the peace-soldiers, amazed and bewildered by this accounting from their brother-in-law, there they go, opening their way in order to make me get in their palace, actually a huge pavilion with corrugated metal walls. So, here I go now, getting inside this large living-room decorated with ancient fire tools and big photos, like puzzles, photos of the men combating the fire. So, instantly, they make me sit on a big table, and they bring me food, drinks, desserts, and I eat this and that, and there they are, staring at me, munching, while making all kinds of questions about my identity. And so, the transmission man is still here, making all kinds of needed translations. And, to answer their questions, among other things, I said to be some kind old-fashioned messenger, I carry messages from country to country, from the past to the future. And the soldiers, intrigued with my exposing, now want to know more about these messages, but I just say that these are all secret messages, I can’t expose it like that… nevertheless, maybe I could give some advice to them, personalized advice to each of them. And very much they liked this idea, and so, into a private room they take me in order to receive each one of them individually… Said and done, to the first one that comes in my advice is “You should completely change your life, leave your house and leave this place, because danger will be coming soon.” And to the next one I say “Do not worry no more about what others may think or not think about yourself, do it as you please”. And to the next one I suggested “Be less arrogant with yourself and with the others around, and you will be loved again”. And to the fourth I say “Go and look for God”. And the fifth, I advised him to “Study the water and the sky”. And to the sixth I suggest “Pay more attention to your dreams, and you will see what is missing…” And to the seventh “The only true love is the love at first sight” And to the eighth I write a message in a paper and tell him to deliver it to a person of his choice on the streets, far away from here. And to the ninth I say “Stop eating bullshit”. And to the tenth I counseled some good black and white movies, like Tarkovsky, Bergman, Polanski. And finally to the translator I confessed the truth, “I’m just an impostor, you know, I know that you know!” and he also confesses to be not so different from me... and so, up we go, into the bedrooms area, bedrooms with bunk beds, where other guys are already sleeping, and as we get in he tells me that I can choose my bed, my bunk, and so, I can choose to lay on the top bed or on the bottom one, as I prefer, and of course, I chose one of the top beds. Afterwards, they give me some clothes, a towel and they tell me where the shower room is. And so, there I go, with that new clothes under my arm, moving into the shower room. And once there, it is very difficult to regulate the temperature of water, but after I managed to do it, I don't want to leave, I want to stay there forever, thinking about life, thinking about where I have been and where am I going, thinking about how I came here, thinking about all this quaint people I have met, and then, as usual, thinking about that desert where I came from, the sky falling over the dunes, and me being absorbed by all that digital machinery. And then, thinking about my queen of None, about our meeting at the psychiatric hospital, thinking about when and where I will meet her again.
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