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Rating: One day a slender Maremma man, accustomed to arranging letters, words, and sentences, crafted eight lullabies, as slender as he was and as fanciful.
So he drew them out of his head, with admirable lightness, with what his eyes were always used to reflecting: from his head of clouds, graceless hoopoes, symbolic birds and haughty, indomitable boars, vague owls, pure hares and honeyed foxes came to life.
Just like that, effortlessly. Like a child, among the songs of crickets in the dark and greater bears.
What does it mean to be a child, after all? Having few means but lots of imagination. Playing with eyes and hands.
Yes, just like that.
Shine, moon head.
Shine again for me.
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