We will have to forget everything, horizons like nights, knowing how to bury everything well, we will be able to give in return / Silence is a good omen, to us who walk towards luck, abandoning our shadows which lean, to this idea of another life / Taste this orange quarter, the sun is not mixed, even if the night is its half, and it knows the heart of the void
Since our days are numbered, life takes us away from all those we love, Since love is lacking, I find my memory, I love
We love so much bitter, heady wines, wild lilacs, to open up all the landscapes, and give birth to courage / But the force is always calm, on the river it sees all the faces of our years passing by, lost in the refusal to live / Remember these lost days, the Italy you dreamed of, the innocence, these journeys to find meaning, to open up to others tomorrow
Since our days are numbered, since life takes us away from all those we love, since love is lacking, I find my memory, I love
Path of Italy
When imagining Italy, even in winter, I did not envisage such weather, the Mediterranean Sea with a very low sky, and a humid cold that got into the bones. After a long journey through the small hilly roads of Provence, we still had to negotiate hairpin bends for hours, from the cornices of the Côte d’Azur to Genoa, via Liguria. In Genoa, after two nights in a poorly heated lodging, take a gluten cure, which is inevitable in these regions. In Genoa, focaccia is in the spotlight, a salty treat that melts in your mouth. A day to discover this majestic port city open to the great marine horizons, birthplace of Christopher Columbus. After this stage, cross Italy from West to East to reach the province of Forli-Cesena, the quiet lands of the singer and luthier friend Giulio Cantore. And already to give a concert there on the heights, in the hills next to the charming medieval village of Bertinoro. There, give a magical little evening concert under the veranda of the Cantina Fantini (the Fantini cellar), at the home of Giancarlo and Monica, a couple of adorable organic farmers, friends of Giulio, producers of wine, and a delicious olive oil. olive, of which they were happy to offer a three-liter can, which perfumed the dishes in abundance for several months. That evening we celebrated, cheese and homemade pizzas. Then, three days were spent with Giulio, at the Casa del Cuculo, literally “cuckoo house”, a residence dedicated to art and culture, where Giulio has his workshop, a large isolated house alone at the top of a free hill, where several families live, including those of Giulio. It is in this house, where the welcome is given with great delicacy and a lot of kindness, that despite the doubt of succeeding in finding an inspiration to follow in a short period of time, I strove to look for a continuation agreed to write a song, which we could work on together with Giulio. It was during these three days spent between research, walks in the cold, sour tavernello (local wine), and wonderful pasta recipes unimaginable to neophytes, that I found these few chords which would become this song a few months later, “ Vers la chance ”. It was just before Christmas. So, from his birthplace, the tender Italy of Giulio, to now, and back, it is a joy to share it with you “Vers la chance ” now.
