The furthest point was home
"Ruggero parla a se stesso: “Fuggi. Dopo trentaquattro anni ti strappi alla terra dove hai amato, sofferto e fatto il buffone. Ogni angolo di strada testimonia una tua gioia, un dolore, una paura. In cambio sarò libero. La maschera che mi cuciranno addosso, lo straniero, l’isolano, il mendicante, mi nasconderà, occulterà il nome, sarò uomo fra uomini…”
Sergio Atzeni
A Journey without a beginning that shifts, drifts, evolves, falters and flows. The only constant being the reconnection with my island; Sardinia. Piece by piece in small, intimate ways. Starting from my own troubled neighbourhood from which I escaped a long time ago. I seek familiar, insignificant details. I drive to remote and rural villages where I have never been before. I wander for hours barely seeing a soul, sometimes nobody at all. Recording shapes, shadows, geometries, textures, faces. A collection of fragments without a whole.
More than a quarter of a century is a fairly long time to look back and still expect to find yourself solidly anchored to a place once left in a rush. Only one thing in mind, just leave, the rest will come and eventually home will feel like home again.
