I arrived at the cathedral after I don't know how many days of walking in an unknown and arcane place. The building was imposing, dark, and alluring, with those columns of water surrounding it and reaching up toward a nonexistent sky. My legs, which had lost sensitivity long ago, reactivated as if propelled by a powerful force, and my heart, until a moment before lazy in its beating, embarked on a frenzied race that gripped my insides, in an explosion of fear, anxiety, and excitement never felt before. I was at the end of the journey, now I knew; I had finally found what I was looking for, even though I wasn't exactly sure what it was or why I was seeking it.
In what I imagined were just a few moments, I reached the entrance of the building. It was enormous and seemed carved out of water, or rather, it was as if it was made of the same magical essence as the life-giving liquid. I had to enter, I had no choice, and as if someone had been listening to my thoughts, the great door split in half, opening up a view of an enormous, circular hall, studded with splendid columns smooth as silk and colored with a vibrant, life-filled blue. In the center of the immense room, there were people, and without even realizing it, I positioned myself to hide from their gaze; however, I could see them: two had instruments in their hands, a trumpet and a bandoneon, while the others were burdened with weights. They seemed to know each other very well and, even though they didn't speak, they moved as if they already knew exactly what they had to do, in fact, the two instrumentalists settled on two chairs that seemed made of glass, placing themselves in such a way as to create a void that was immediately filled by the rest of their companions. A few moments passed and the magic began, unexpected and seductive like the caress of a sudden and gentle wind. The men remaining standing formed a choir, while the two musicians created a soundscape straight from the pen of an eternal dreamer. I was enraptured, the pain in my bones, matured during the long march that had brought me to that secret place, had completely disappeared, replaced by a sort of warm drowsiness, while my breathing settled at minimal levels, ensuring my survival and allowing my brain not to miss even a word or a note of that splendid music. The latter filled the air not only with sounds but also with colors and scents: the salt of the sea mingled with echoes of distant peoples or perhaps never existed, sending flashes to each of the five senses as intense as the August sun but delicate as the spring breeze and, while all this was happening, they, the creators of all this enchantment, continued to produce their magic, playing lightly and without constraints, ensuring that the voices and instruments merged in a continuous whole, capable of rendering musical even the pauses between one piece and the next.
I don't know how long I remained in silence dreaming in my hiding place, but in the end, the notes ceased to flow and gradually my limbs resumed their normal biological rhythm. The men, who until a moment before were at the center of the great structure, had disappeared and the only thing I could hear was the sound of the water coming from outside. Even the two chairs were no longer there. Perhaps I had dreamed, I don't know, but I felt strangely empty: those sensations could not have been the product of my imagination, I had to experience them again; I was completely addicted. Behind me a voice: "They'll be back, you'll see, they always do." Behind me, an old man looked at me smiling and I, incredulous at finding another human being in that place, asked: "And when?" "Well, I don't know that. Do you want to wait with me?" "Sure, I feel like I have nowhere else to go." "That's normal, now that you have arrived, what else do you want to search for?"
Mystic Mediterranean: Paolo Fresu - trumpet, flugelhorn; A Filetta Corsican Voices - Vocals; Daniele di Bonaventura: Bandoneon.
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