Bolzano.. .
on the one hand- a place where the mountains move close on to you when it rains,but on the other, a place where you feel home pretty soon.. .
and warm nights are spent on sidewalks and streets, with sparkling glasses of hugo, veneziano and vino della casa.. . i know there are many hearts in this country, right now, missing those nights.. .
Patrick Wolf.. .
he came as a cavalier, a conductor, with lips of elvis, as the golden boy.
played the guitar, the piano and oh the violin, right into the deepest places of the heart.
he spoke of times to embrace the darkness and of not letting anyone love you too much.
he cut, he stroked, he smiled. a hundred years old, newborn.
he is patrick wolf and i salute him.
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