Dear stranger,
Feel both welcomed and utterly spiritually uplifted.Because you are here, in my house, in my cabin, on my field.Because i am here with you, and we can share a cherry tobacco cigarette and eat some good pasta afterwards.
What it really matters is to be happy.
I am a foreigner.All my life i used to be a traveler and i very often regarded myself as one of the "gens de la rue", or commonly known as rolling stone people, those who do not need nor sheler, neither roots...
I was born in the midst of the fields, i whitnessed the rise and the fall of humankind.I fell in love with love and fell from grace at times.
I walked lonely roads, i ran green fields, i have chosen a waggon to hitch to a certain star.
I live in England.You, know...somewhere westwards from continental Europe there is a tiny archipelago where it rains almost every day and Sun is something you can rarely see, but anyway it is hard not to fall in love with such a place.
Later edit: I live in the very heart of England, and every day i thank God i have the amazing opportunity to discover a new culture, new lifestyles, new states of mind, new faces.The town where i live is not crowded, but still enough so as sometimes, deep inside i am lured i am for some reason surounded by thousands and thousands of stories which worth being told.
I lived a fair part of my life in Italy, the boot alike land, where art, warm weather and rafined cuisine are local icons that i have taken with me when i left home.
If i owe so much to someone, there is for sure my Mother, my Father and the Bonsai Tree in my room, who is such a good listener and who knows all my inner thoughts.Therefore, i ought to thank them so much for educating and helping me whenever needed as i am very proud of the way i was brought up and i assume anyone of us is.
I owe so much to the roads, to the trains, to the starry skies, to the scars my both body and spirit are made of, to Devendra Banhart s guitar, to the early morning tea, to the firy vodka i drenched myself in, to the infinite libraries, to the night riding, to Lhasa de Sela s freedom, to the sound of cigarettes, to the grazed knees, to my boho way, to Kerouac s confusion, to nutella and the zen moments, to the perfection we find in everything.
I am the ordinary Joe anyone can see at every corner, but the one who mighty had fallen in a Raven night.I used to be a Tennessee lad who had fallen in love with a Kansas girl who milked the cows for a living.You know, just the ordinary unhappy ending life is about at some points.But there is no time for drama.There is no time for regret.
I am the sinner who will be waiting for Jesus, The Saviour with sweet corn in his left hand and who will bow to Him and will ask Him to forgive Me, Adam, the sinner.And we will eat sweet corn and Pasta of Emilia Romagna together.
Everytime i cook pasta i wait for the moment when Jesus will have a dinner with me.Not a Final Supper.
We dont do soups here, sorry.Only yum yum pasta and Lasagne Bolognese.And Jesus shall consider that.
Here in my blogroll you will discover some dear people i know and who envisage in a different way their perception upon life, art, roads and people.
Life is a Road.We are the Travelers, aint we?
You will be pleased to find out on this blog everything reated to: Arts, Travels, People, Cuisine, Concerts, Lifestyle, Thoughts, Going Places, Dear Friends, Escaping from the "Quotidien" and all the jazz in between.
Nevertheless, i will kindly ask you to have your say.
It is almost midnight and the night birds need to sleep right now...otherwise they will booze...
I am so happy to share some wisdom with you, folks and i hope so you are because in the long run, this is what life is all about.
Tout a l heure, mecs.
Alexandros
