To write. Write on satellite, converting the fleeting ideas of an Indian autumn around you. He crosses his lethargy to take off from the balloon and melt into the sweetness of the soul to the point of losing track of time. Enter the dark water on the shore.
Watch the water flow into a distant ocean where the city of man is located. Take your time, smell the sun, taste the juices from your work, imagine what they will be like.
Understand. Understand where we are and admire the road climbed in the middle of difficult days.
To know. Knowing that the vintage door will soon close and then the search for lost time will inevitably begin, the race against time that at first will be slow and cottony. It will carry the spirit into winter and then drag it through time and branch after branch it will pass and then it will turn the world and lift the sap towards the correct horizon.
For the moment, I test this time that empties its hours in front of me. I see him pass by the shore that accompanies me and supports my steps. I’m just, I just hope that the words go up and down between my fingers expressing my human part.
A well-placed headset, foot on pedal, wheel turns between grooves. No more grapes to look around. Raised here, nuggets there, a heap of pomace waiting to be removed hums with all its wings as if nature recovered the part that man was kind enough to leave.
The neighboring cellars are open and I hear the click of a piston pump completing a final comeback.
And then I get there. Island lost in the middle of an ocean of sleeping vines, there is still one waiting. Carrying her grapes with pride, she watches the human pass by, thinking that it is hers who is approaching. The skins of its grapes are fine, its dark color indicates a maturity reached that will no longer wait for the passage of the hand.
A breeze rises, dragging a flight of leaves from the neighboring hedge, one of which is more intrepid and lodges on my neck. A spider detaches itself from him and, like a climber, rappels down my leg. I watch her walk away imagining the twilight of her short fighter and escaping life.
The wheel resumes its turns, London Grammar, Benjamin Clementine, William Fitzsimmons follow one another, the melodies pass through my ears and sway my temporal lobes sending vibrational waves favorable to this lethargy that floods me.
Take advantage, take advantage of these moments of grace, know how to dissect them and feel close to what surrounds us without trying to get attached to metaphysical concepts imprisoning the mind. Finding your way, finding your job and your place in all of this. Doubt it, find it again, and move on for it.
Then I get a text from Olivier, very simple, very brief:? That’s it, the color is coming !!? And I know what that means, what it implies and above all it reveals a professional bond that alone made us feel good. Those who follow this blog know what this little phrase means and how much it encourages this vintage full of research, tests, discoveries and how simple the little pleasures that we build ourselves can be.
Wanting to improve, wanting to find the magic light bulb switch that makes your creativity vibrate and activate it together. Because the idea that is there to do all this alone would not make sense to me and the day you feel not one but several to try to achieve the same goal justifies all the crossroads, all the horizons scrambled by errors and dead ends that of In fact, they were only stages, floors to go through and visit.
Today I am fine, I am serene in what I do and I am glad to see it and say it.
My pilgrimage takes me to the edge of a beige portal, it is that of Jerome, my neighbor and friend. From now on and for two years he is with me, with us, he accompanies us to learn a return to earth, a crystallization of his past, his present and his future and we are the ones who will allow him.
Therefore, I am in the process of transmitting. Pass on what we know, touch the goal, show it, make it shine with all its splendor and share your knowledge.
I am proud of all this, of this exchange, of this message from Olivier about this future of Jérôme. My heart is charged, my mind is filled, I manage to do what I love, share, exchange, transmit, grow and live from everything. Good weekend everyone, may this autumn sweetness be as vital for you as it is for me right now.
Nicholas.
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