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The first penguin is never forgotten...
“Small exercises in magic,” Riccardo used to say. Between folkie happiness and melancholic grace.
And anyway, there are so many things to say that it will be best to say very few.
In the meantime, just sit down...
…
Pause is pressing the stop button. Rest is feeling at home. The difference is something in the air, a small involuntary leap across the ford.
It arrives, it happens, and you don't know why.
Rest is a small coffee, a “clean, well-lit place,” a half-smile of the eyes, an energy that asks for nothing.
Then, without you even realizing it, you find a position, relax the shoulders, the legs, the back...
Then you look around and everything is exactly as it should be.
For example, I now see a cat sleeping, but for him, it doesn't count, he's always at the Penguin café.
And anyway, if unlearning is more valuable than learning, here the surplus is wiped clean. It's no small thing.
“I am the owner of the Penguin café... and I will tell you random words.” Among those words, the ellipses that we must fill in.
But without hurry.
…
The whole repertoire one would expect from a little orchestra: popular tunes, old-fashioned exoticisms, atmospheric visions, small mantras. Plus a few secrets that are better left unrevealed.
Let's just say that, a small miracle, order and spontaneity come together for once.
The first penguin is never forgotten...
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