To trust the accidental course of events and let them move the wandering eyes of the traveler like a cloud that allows the wind to carry it around the sky is the first one.
The second is an attempt to take control of direction, like an experienced sailor who knows the final destination, and sometimes fighting the waves, sometimes using them to their advantage, arrives in the chosen territory.
But there are times when a new way exists. And perhaps it is the most ancient one, forgotten during the centuries. Here there is no control. No desires. At times, even no intention. Only the ones who don’t look for it can reach it. It’s the state of the bird.
When I first arrive in Sicily or a new place, I want to be the sailor. I have a desire to control; hundreds of cities were already gone under my feet, and I’m sure I can navigate anything. But the waves have an unknown force that stops me close to the harbor. So I try to become the cloud, and even here the wind is so strong that I see nothing from above.
This work is a sign that a new way exists. The way opens itself to the wanderer; the only price to pay is to accept not to retain any moments from it. A person cannot know to be in this state, but at its awakening will have hints and might be thinking.