A turntable placed temporarily on the floor plays a song by Lucio Battisti, La Luce dell'Est, out of tune.
The tired blowing of the May wind shakes a corner of the east: and this is how a portion of the sun reflects the metallic disorder of the pantry. Pink is the backdrop for paper lights, prints and perfumes, it becomes inevitable to wonder what would have happened if Battisti and Miyazaki had met.
The water boils slowly, drawing freckles on steel faces. A knife acts as a metronome marking time on an olive cutting board. The handed down recipe requires coarse strips of bacon as long as they’re 1 centimeter thick.
A bottle of beautiful wine looks out the window, emotionally remembering France and Paris. The glasses accompany her staring at the explosion of wisteria that frames the windows of the street.
A door slams shut. Italian music is slowly being lost, replaced by alienating electronic music. Posters on the walls emerge from the margins of the pages of a huge squared notebook. Berlin, where clouds of steam complement the room's blue-gray sky. Two portholes allow you to look out hoping to land as soon as possible. The tailgate opens.
Now it is La Collina dei Ciliegi who limps to the room. Tiles designed by time are the branches on which an origami nest rests that leads to the highest point of the tree. An orange light cuts the space creating vertigo on the linen forced onto the mattress.
The dynamism of a cat with a thousand gears seems to transform the corridor into a futuristic treadmill.
Books, magazines and catalogs of any author and format act as a backdrop in an alternation of photographs and objects that have lost their original function.
The sun has now bid its daily farewell to the city's buildings. Caravaggesque light points underline the beauty of sincere imperfections. A whiny meow breaks the balance of thoughts and colors that clash loudly over the beauties of London, Rome, Milan, Barcelona, Porto, Taormina and then Naples, seeking respective primacy.
Then the doorbell. The instant din is softened by the wave of plants that challenge survival on a daily basis.
Sage green perfumes the entrance. Guests are greeted by a concrete milky way that spans the floors and ceiling.
A luminous parenthesis illuminates an artist's corner where bouts of anger free the mind.
Mambo by Lucio Dalla makes the guests' bare feet slide across the starry sky of Rome.
Half the moon is smiling outside, the other is hiding.
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