Islandia. A suspended world

Amazzonia. Alle sorgenti del mito

11/08/2015 -

I don't have the ground from under my feet, where is it? It is under the bridge. Is it a fable? It's Islandia.
So much stilts divided from each other by air and ground wires so thick that it seems there is not even space to enlarge a smile; then by bridges, many bridges that bind to other bridges, still more and more, as well, to an end not seen.

At Islandia everything is transformed, as the overlapping rows of colored cloths hung out to dry that make change entire neighborhoods in exclusive carnivals.
You notice, walking, you are following the design of a madman whose purpose seems to have been, rather than orienting himself and the whole country, the "get lost".
This orientation is made of pushes, you turn around and do not see any more, then you start to get to grips with the directions that become possible and finally the doubts.
You missed.
No! Do you feel lost and want to get off.
I go down. Many roads are open construction sites. On the construction sites there are workers who build what? Bridges. Reinforced concrete. I meet the mayor that stops me and asks:
"Hola! Where are you from? American?".
"No Italian!"
"Ahhh ittaliano, que lindo!"
I smile.

"Seen? We are building, there is development ... Ittaliano! Viva the Panettone. "
Disarmed by panettone I condense my response in "hello", a second smile and a vigorous handshake. I turn and walk away.
It lacks tables on the deck. Children run around shaking everything. I tremble. They run, run strong and I stop.
I close my eyes clenching hands, feet and ass ... and I narrow.
Like arrows they pass, touching me and laughing loudly. I open my eyes and I see an old lady who laughs even louder ... I would throw she down without breaking her.
I ask: "Where do they lead all these bridges?" - She says - "They lead everywhere".
I turn around looking up.
I'm surrounded.

The poles that support Islandia are a tired and bored army.
Thirsty, they expect rain as a license.
Everybody in Islandia expect rain.
All. Not me.

Islandia, Peru 2015

Photos 1-2-3-4-5: Stilts of Islandia.