Lucio Battisti
Emozioni

THE REVIEW

I still wonder after all these listens what a heron is. It must be my ignorance on the subject, and surely I’ll be reprimanded, but I don’t know what it is. But if it says fly, it must certainly be a bird, I think, I dunno. Anyway, yes, let’s watch it fly. Lucio, what kind of flight are you talking about? A mental flight maybe. Are you saying that by seeing a heron fly, you manage to fly too? My compliments then, if that’s all it takes for you. However, I see a bit of contradiction. You can’t lie happily on the grass and then wade through a sorrow, however subtle it may be. You can’t change feelings like that, from one moment to the next. Are you referring to something bittersweet? That dear sensation of almost unjustified happiness surrounded by a sadness that you can’t even explain? How much I understand you, dear Lucio. And then what do you do, you sit there watching the sun set? How much happiness can you feel through such a vision? After all, that sun you’re watching is setting today just as it set yesterday and will set tomorrow. And I must say it is an inexplicably familiar pleasure to me; we're two madmen, dear Lucio. Then that sun goes to sleep... Just as you left us that sad '98. But is it worth asking certain questions? The sadness we talked about before, if it is the one I know, makes no noise. It's soft, like snow. Are these questions to be asked? In Poggio Bustone, did it work differently? You said it yourself, subtle. Too subtle to really feel it. It’s part of us, no use asking questions. And we need it, trust me. And don’t do such foolish things. We’re talking about subtle, intrinsic sorrows, who knows if this word exists, it's not worth driving around like a madman. And turn on those headlights, you can’t see anything. In the end, it is so, when the sadness we talk about accumulates, at a certain point it can lead to this. But we’re too smart, me and you, for such foolishness, you know it well. Like a medicine, that's what we need. Friendly hands, hands to hold, clean and sincere hands. Which after all cannot guarantee that what we feel is also felt by the other. But are people so difficult? Let's hold these hands tight, and hold on to them. Don't hold them too hard, otherwise they'll hurt. And woe betide if we lose them.

And now I am in difficulty. I don't remember ever taking a walk in the heath, but I must tell you, I can sort of imagine it. You say you found yourself this way? And above all, what do you mean by 'finding oneself'? It’s not easy to find oneself and trust me, I don’t know how a heath can be helpful. But if Mogol puts it that way, it must really be. Is it an invitation? Is any heath okay or do I have to go to the one you’re talking about, I dunno, maybe it has something magical. Then you have to explain another thing to me. But what do you have to talk about all this time with a fisherman? Will you get him to tell you the best techniques to catch a swordfish? Or do you ask him how to cook clams? Or tell me, aren’t you telling us that you find yourself also through simple and humble gestures like talking with an honest man? I think I’ll have to go down to the pier more often. I just hope that the fact that something inside dies isn’t related to the conversation with the fisherman, otherwise, you go talk to him. Just as you go to grow a little plant. It's not that I mind, you know, it’s just that I’m not good with botany. Is botany related to plants? I guess so. Anyway, I don’t know how to handle these little plants, let alone make red roses come out. Although I do not deny the immense impact that such an apparently mundane transformation can have, yet so rich in beauty and meaning. And now, once again. Wasn’t it enough to drive with the lights off? Do you also have to slap a guy on the street? You said it yourself, he was just a bit rude, what he said didn’t hurt you. But you must take it out on someone, there’s no escaping that. Let's look for another way, dear Lucio, let's buy a punching bag... Let’s vent there... The need is there and it’s strong, but we know it’s unfair. I hope you didn’t really do it... But if you tell me you close your eyes to stop that thing we talked about earlier, you make me think that those hands you have let go. And then I believe you that in his mind it’s not there. And trust me, it never will be.

I think I'll call them emotions.