«L'uomo costruisce case perché è vivo ma scrive libri perché si sa mortale.
Vive in gruppo perché è gregario, ma legge perché si sa solo.
La lettura è per lui una compagnia che non prende il posto di nessun'altra,
ma che nessun'altra potrebbe sostituire».
[Daniel Pennac]
AS HIMSELF
- the Rob's
- Roma, Italy
- He was born in a lazy tuesday.Just purple flowers around his cradle.Silence and purple flowers.The ancient Fathers whisper their secrets in his ears, before he went away, stolen by the wind, blessed by the moon."You are a travelling man" they said him.The roads of his life were just placed in the other side of our world, but when he became a man he felt the emptiness of the desert,and the acrid smell of the asphalt from the streets of the unknown. So he began writing poetry, singing against the night walls, searching for his home, taking his bag. He was a travelling man. And that's just a chosen destiny tale.
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