I like to close chapters. The idea of change makes me feel good. When I am feeling particularly low I would pack. Actually it’s what I always do. I sort things in the flat, I tidy up, whatever in that direction. I woke up very low today. I have always been a melancholic guy, it’s easier for me to be jolly when I am with a lot of people, at home I am not like that. I don’t want anybody to talk to me. The real problem of feeling “low” is that all work is compromised, I can play but all may come out just bad. If I’d write lyrics, the result would be terrible. I can only be practical when I feel like this. My grandmother won’t ever go back to her summer house, and today I started packing her stuff with my mother. That house will keep the ancient flair but it will be renovated and part of it it’s gonna change a bit. I am mostly emotionally detached by all of this, also if I have to confess emptying the closets and chests of drawers was partly painfull. I am bringing some of her silk foulards with me, I want to wear them the way she did. This is the fist year since I’m alive that nobody lives in this house. I’m writing right now from the living room, sitting on a chair some ancestor of my grandparents used to sit on. It feels a bit strange not to have its owners living the house, on the other hand I can already imagine the new version of it, the dining room will be moved, furniture will be moved. This is the only “gift” I do have: I can see the new house already, I have an idea about proportions, I do see it all, that’s probably why I studied industrial design. On one of the living room’s walls is hanging a picture of my grandparents in the day the of their wedding. Their are in the garden of a villa in the village where they were actually born, which is not where we’ve always lived. My grandmother wears a fancy dress. The waist is so tiny my mother couldn’t wear it for her own wedding. If I want to see that dress, I’ve got to go to a local costume museum in town. Among some dresses they have from us, they also have two tailcoats, one for a child, one for an adult. I wore once the adult one, even the cylinder hat! I was a teenager. My grandmother wouldn’t let me use the “jewellery”, which included the stick.
Next week probably I’ll go to the countryside, I need a walk there. My grandmother owns a secret little spot dated XVIII century. I like to walk in the field, the carob trees still there, the ancient walls still up, not all of them. I’m a city man and I couldn’t live in such a far place, but I enjoy the silence. You hear no cars, no asshole screaming bullshit. Nobody and nothing are owners there. Leaving the island is always the easiest solution for me, I go back to a life where I’m damn poor, do shitty jobs and all the rest, but the loneliness I live in a city is comfort for me.