They told me that I should simply speak, without the aid of those tools and images I usually surround myself with. So, I’ll give it a try, speaking off the cuff and relying, forgive me, on some notes and a glass of water. Tracing back to the origin of water, we are drawn to the springs from which it flows. In reality, this bubbling forth is the result of an accumulation that pervades a portion of a mountain, a summary of underground stories and, in its most intense phases, even exposed to the sunlight.
This prehistory gives way to a constant and undeniable element of progress, from the source downwards. Now it is a stream, now a brook tumbling over rocks, now a river. With only minor diversions, there is but one direction—an accumulation. Time advances, entropy grows, aerial energy is both stored and dissipated. It’s not just water that flows; there’s sediment too, a piece of the mountain being carried toward the sea. Gutta cavat lapidem. Tectonic forces built it, and unyielding patience has worn it down.
Time accumulates, and there is a story that can only be remembered.
The above is the incipit of a performance-talk I gave a few years ago at MUSE. It is in Italian and you can find the notes here.
