Author archives: gianlucavassallo

  • Day Six. To Know.

  • The midnight carriage passes through Times Square. Two white skinned fifty years old have left the Ohio to come here. To show off a bovine breast squeezed in a satin bustier, together with the all the meat in surplus.  They jump up and down with the rhythm of the horses march, with their nose up an[...]
  • Day Five. To Breathe.

  • A house in greenpoint, eight flights of stairs to run up as if they were only one, the same anxiety as the first time here, a few years ago, with the same smell of stale wood and linoleum to each step, increasing by two. Everything was easy back then, love in my eyes, four daises on a weak table,[...]
  • Day Four. To Exist.

  •   I touch my own face to make sure I actually exist, a bunch of minutes past ten pm. I am on the rooftop of midtown feeling the amazement in Marcello's eyes , eaten away by the jet lag, hidden under a green hood, watery for an overseas love, seeing in them the same joy that touched mine the [...]
  • Day Three: To Sleep

  • Up & down Manhattan avenue for ten blocks  of silence.  The ultra red sky on the east breaks up in pieces of truth on the intermittent neon light of a dry cleaning shop, on the Cuban sitting on the window and wearing out the hands where his face sleeps. It might be that it is still the morni[...]
  • Day Two. To Kiss

  • I walked the city the same way you give a first kiss.. With lips exhausted with astonishment, hands behind my back.. An unexpected tremble between my groin and the universe , telling you it is time to stray into the certainty of being alive , into a solemn silent walk  on worn heels, between a Sep[...]
  • Day One. To Tell.

  • Malpensa airport sleeps even if it is late. Malpensa drinks a coffee before the take-off. The order of priorities that are the soul of this country puts my plans at risk, plans that were born to be confused, and born not to be born at all. I stand still in the one quarter of a man space seat , th[...]