LITTLE SONG - MEO FUSCIUNI

LITTLE SONG - MEO FUSCIUNI

SMALL SONG

"A man's solitude passes through a bouquet of roses clenched in his hands, withered by the time that crossed them. For whom are these roses? On the table a cup of coffee and between the fingers of the hand a cigarette".
Cycle of metamorphosis

Little song put me facing my solitude as a man. Metamorphosis crosses a state of consciousness, the human condition.

Stopping is necessary, reflecting is fundamental for what follows, understanding that nothingness is everything and that each fragment of this work spent with myself tells a story...
Solitude is in my life, it's a component that lives with my breath, but I haven't always known how to speak to it. I have done so now, thanks to this passage, to the physical change of the past, a new place where I can lock myself away, where I can hide, where I can listen to the sound of perfume. The previous state of oblivion gave way to a world of memories, like a sudden landslide. I am still here, in a small room, waiting. Outside, time passes, seasons pass, people pass. Umbrellas fly in the courtyard of silence. I wrote some time ago: "the metamorphosis we seek is in the path we take. We fall, ultimately, into darkness, into the cave of life, and from there, we sense the scent of change, of our own metamorphosis".
The personal solitude of man facing time, space, the things that surround us and that change.

Composition: coffee, rose, tobacco

[The little song was conceived, created and arranged while listening to the albums Murder Ballads and Skeleton Tree by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.]