LITTLE SONG - MEO FUSCIUNI

LITTLE SONG - MEO FUSCIUNI

LITTLE SONG

"The solitude of man is represented by a bouquet of roses tightly held in his hands, wilted by the time that has passed through them. For whom are these roses? On the table, a cup of coffee and between the fingers of his hand, a cigarette."
Metamorphosis cycle

Little song made me face my solitude as a man. The metamorphosis goes through a state of consciousness, the human condition.

Stopping is necessary, reflecting is fundamental for my future, understanding that nothingness is everything and that each fragment of this past work with myself tells...
Solitude is in my life, it is a component that lives with my breath, but I have not 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 fragrance. The previous state of forgetfulness has given 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, deep down, into darkness, into the cave of life, and from there, we sense the smell of change, of our own metamorphosis."
The personal solitude of man in the face of time, space, and the things that surround us and 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.]