In my 37 years, little by little, I'm learning some things. And one of those things is that I realize that as time passes, great friends, true friends do not necessarily are those at a particular time or continuously for a long time, but who over the years, while our carousel rotates, each both are in our lives.
This is what happens to me Ribaloff Fabio. There may be periods of several years, but the guy is always there, with his intelligence, his humor and his constant good mood and desire.
Some time ago I met again with him and a few days ago I read something you have written and really made me realize that sometimes what is artistic is not necessarily identified with a specific genre or a particular person is Moreover, I believe that what is "well done" leaves pleasant feeling of ambivalence rather than on the environment.
This is what you have written Fabio and I want to share with you:
Contacts
Reinventing the discouragement from a neutral place, manage and modify the mystery that accompanies your neglect, and if you do not see the essence of all perhaps is that you never went beyond what the inertia is empty and despotic warranted and comfort. Now let
disintegrating fluency, recognizing both know, and I had no freedom more vicious than that discharged by moving parts like fans in a giant chess. The truth has never been so close and yet elusive to many and you came back to look the other way to enjoy gaming and entertainment. You wanted
reason, seeks to build a speech and was lost in a dark and empty road, with echoes of groupality regrettable, need to belong idiot and structured in the most sterile of insecurities.
I came to believe that had more to give and no one could reverse my disappointment absurd idealization something that was never where I believed him.
I kept memories of you inside the most beautiful golden box, I did not open it until now, and all of you no more than dust and ashes that the warm summer breeze and calm takes, returning each image blurred.
A final nostalgia fades and I ask one last time to save a form and torn and fuzzy.
rain again remind me of a film, a sadness and joy are mixed as memories of past returns and desires became distant echoes and mild memory corrodes and harmonically in a game of forgetting and remembering that you immerse everything in light, between sea mist and white foam that breaks wind hopelessly impossible to hold hands.
We dared to lead the latest resources in an endless chauvinisms that proved to be nothing more than dreams and visions of what we always lacked, lack You should leave more acute in a corner, the air cooled and you felt the forest grow back the tide with what will not see their long-awaited and inevitable cyclical and ancient cloister, in a world rich in passions that are sold if no more in which to dip ideas and versions tragic time variables that slips radiant and anachronistic.
I incorporate a slip, a virtuality, your hugs desiring hands that never come, someone to listen and understand this galaxy to its eccentricity. Volume
retro a message saved in each world, in every sun at chain reaction in the radiation that lives in you in the form of humanity. Someone
accompanied again and again, someone was always on the bias that takes your desire, your need to save a rose so personal and intimate as the attraction cosmic time and curved space over each other only by stock mutual perception. Fabio
Ribaloff
11/08/2010
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