Bibio
Vignetting the Compost

Bookstore COOP. I've been waiting for years for a book of botanical poetry or poetic botany. Have I found it? I open it, flip through... hmm, not quite.

However, I did take something home. What? This piece of information: it seems there are insects that spend the entire night inside a flower after getting trapped when it closes at night. What does it mean? Nothing...

In any case, this album starts with a melody running on low batteries, the kind we disheveled folks like. It continues with a folk watercolor, the Incredible String Band in a kindergarten garden, you could say.

Track three, on the other hand, is a couple of steps in Arcadia. Track four is a sort of penguin orchestra turned folk...

And anyway, enough with the track-by-track. Better to describe the old music toy store. Come one, come all. You enter through the door, of course, but you are immediately swept away by an old-time drawing on a cookie box that smells of cellar and spring.

Then from a carousel come little epiphanies to slip into your pockets and childish melodies worth a penny. After all, you don't need to know the value of money to know that coins jingle.

But the beauty is that everything is just a little off-key, which is stuff for us acid folk kids. And if "just a little" becomes "almost nothing," you can joyfully get lost in a glass of water.

Café della Rocca, a little prosecco at noon. The newspaper talks about the sensory analyst, a topic quite suitable for daydreaming.

It seems the sensory analyst hears a little flower in everything. Not only that, it's said that every flower vibrates with a little music. It's not esotericism; it's grammar, rhythm... a butterfly landing.

So then, to me, as a good sensory music lover that I am, I started thinking about this album. The radio is playing Biagio Antonacci, not exactly music lover's fare. But the girls around are beautiful.

Ah, I'm not sure if I told you that there seem to be insects that spend the entire night inside a flower after getting trapped when it closes in the evening. Yes, perhaps I did say it, Stop, then.