Between vinyl and music
I've always been a dreamer, an underrated musician who has a hard time deciphering reality and its illusory meaning.
With my mind I can go anywhere, but are the four walls of my room a desert island where I try to encode a message to the world.
You won't believe what I can do with a pencil and a blank sheet of paper, a little seasoning and the soundtrack of my imaginary theater with a musical classic that changed the second generation of the most passionate rockers.
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I'll send an SOS to the world..."
"It repeats in my mind endlessly as I record an old acetate drawer."
I too have something to say to the world, I am a lone wolf wandering in the cold night without rest.
Only a genius could have written those verses and given humanity a face from a corner of the Pacific.
Now, I'm trying to do my best and my guitar just whines like an iron maiden without rhythm....
message in a bottle."
"I followed my mind, chorded in that masterful melody created for posterity with unique cadence, tenacity and versatility."
Now my hand was paralyzed, this revolutionary rhythm in my head looking for a way out.
I felt, the creator of that piece, even considering the authorship of the acclaimed musical genius "Sting"; I might as well have been a RockStar for that instant even as the strings tantalized me.
I would like to stand at the top and transform everything I do into a song, I would like to make my message fly as the great geniuses do.
an island lost on the other side of the sea..."
But my hand is made of stone and that's how I made a cut on my finger with the string.
Only a musician knows what it's worth, a drop of Blood that speaks for me while the maiden cries asleep in the cowardly silence.
I'm just another castaway playing a song by the British Rock greats, sung off-key in the corner of my room wanting to smile at the world and be able to fly higher.
However, deep down I feel like I'm standing on the Eiffel Tower under an arch of the top canopy over three hundred meters high and from here everything is possible, everything I can see, while I end my doubts.
A dreamer in an elevated state feeling that he is part of the rock band "The Police", even if my voice says otherwise.
Just at the moment when I'm about to fall sprawled on the carpet, back to the real world, next to my guitar and an old collection of acetates.
"All indications are that my trip went well even though it's over. Now, back in my room again, I'm the undervalued musician trying to encode a message to the world with an illusory meaning..."
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