LITTLE SONG - MEO FUSCIUNI

LITTLE SONG

"Man's solitude passes through a bouquet of roses clasped in his hands, withered by the time that has passed through them. Who are these roses for? On the table a cup of coffee and between the fingers of the hand a cigarette".
Cycle of metamorphosis

Little song confronted me with my loneliness as a man. Metamorphosis goes through a state of consciousness, the human condition.

Stopping is necessary, thinking is fundamental for my continuation, understanding that nothingness is everything and that each fragment of this work spent with myself, tells...
Loneliness is in my life, it's a component that lives with my breath, but I haven't always been able to talk to him. I've done it now, thanks to this passage, to the physical change of the past, a new place where I can lock myself, where I can hide, where I can listen to the sound of perfume. The previous state of forgetfulness has given way to a world of memories, like a sudden landslide. I'm still here, in a small room, waiting. Outside, time passes, seasons pass, people pass. Umbrellas fly in the courtyard of silence. I wrote some time ago: "The metamorphosis we are looking for is in the path we are taking. We fall, deep down, into the darkness, into the cave of life, and from there we feel the smell of change, of our own metamorphosis."
Man's personal solitude in the face of time, space, the things that surround us and change.

Composition: coffee, rose, tobacco 

[The short song was conceived, created and arranged by listening to Nick Cave's Murder ballads and Skeleton tree and the bad seeds.]