One day, a voice.
Apr 1, 2020 | Art, Arte, Artist, Artista, Canto, Carla, Confessions, diary, Journey, novel, performance, Scripts, story, storytelling, theatermusica, Theatre
Please, don’t go. Sit down.
Tell me about the journey, this one, the last one, or another one.
Tell me about the places you have seen, about the people you met.
Tell me what you found, tell me what you left behind.
Tell me about the great moments, tell me about the sad times.
Sit down, please and tell me..
Sit down and tell me a story.
Ok. I will tell you about another kind of journey. The journey inside.
Because, you see, the journey is also a journey when the landscape is created by your own imagination.
When the trees, the sky, the fresh air and the warm sun on your skin, all of it, is painted on the canvas of your soul with the colours of
Have you ever tried to close your eyes and fly way towards far places, guided only by the sound of a voice?
Yes, every time you sing..
It is not the same .
Everything is easier, everything is kind of granted when I sing.
You know me, you know every small intonation in my voice, you know the way I turn my head to the side and I look at you when I say
certain things, you know the way I smile when I say certain things.
Our frequentation, as it is superficial, leaves us with no real possibilities for imagination.
No, I am talking about the sound of the voice of a person you don’t know, you have never seen, and probably you will never see..
I am talking about the endless landscape which is displayed in front of you like an abyss, every time you pick up the phone and listen to
the foreign sounds that this voice slowly articulates.
Whatever the voice is about to say, you close your eyes, and you let yourself go in a sea of sensations.
You hang on every word the voice pronounces like you are on the verge on the abyss and your life depends on it.
Unforgettable landscapes, vibrations so deep in your soul that your whole body and soul resonates for hours…
The more the voice talks, the more you enjoy being a still standing tourist , the more you can not do without it.
Without its sound and its landscapes.
Without the landscape where the voice leads you, without the sun on your skin, and the blue skies which fill your heart.
It’s a journey all istinct and no reason, has no purpose and no destination, has no mind only soul.
Nothing else exists, but the strong feeling that the sound of this voice awakes in you. This is the only compass, the only direction.
If I close my eyes I can still feel it…
It must have been love. At least, what the world calls love. Could it be?
I don’t know.
One day I met the body behind this voice.
The body was still and very nervous at the same time.
It was scared, uncertain,frozen in its doubts.
Disappointed, I did not recognize it, I didn’t recognize its voice.
I looked at it and I wondered what was it doing here, where was its voice, where was its soul.
I tried to challenge this silent body with thousand of words, like waves coming from my voice, digging deep into it.
I know, you always tend to do this when you are tired, tense, or totally overwhelmed by your emotions.
In the midst of all this sound, this frenzy of words almost drawning it, the body reacts.
It stops, even if it was not moving at all, at least that is my impression.
The uncertainty in it has gone, the doubt and the fear as well.
It stands strong and tall, and grounded, and beautiful.
Suddenly I realize, it is not a body, I see a man.
He has long shiny black hair, and big, deep, sad black eyes.
He looks familiar, still he is a stranger to me.
He comes closer, he put a finger on my lips, the frenzy in my voice and in my heart stops.
“ Wait. Let me look at you. God, you are beautiful”
I close my eyes and I hear the sound of the voice.
I see the voice, finally.
I can touch the voice, finally.