The Winter Sea, Loredana Bertè.

Il Mare d'inverno, Loredana Bertè.
It's fury, it's wave, it's rock, it's strength.
It's the window that slams, it's the night that howls.
It has the same noise as thoughts, the deepest ones, which have no rocks, sand, ports to crash into.
Those same thoughts that bang at night, a little before sleeping, between the sternum and the bedroom walls.
Those same thoughts that are a torment, panic, noise.
A terrible noise, an intense, indefinite and infinite din.
Three thousand facts, do it, to confuse him, to no longer be a victim of his wake, you are unaware and also proud, stupid.
You get confused between things, thinking that in the end it's fine like this.
That maybe you feel like you have arrived and that you do everything to hide it.
You deny evidence, sensations, instinct.
You build stories, facts, situations.
You are looking for something normal, calm, serene.
Sometimes it's a breeze.
And you're fine, deep down, you do your own things, the same things, the same mistakes, the same eyes, the same hands, the same life.
Then it comes back, violent, unstoppable, shocking.
It calls everything into question, everything in disorder, chaos and noise.
And you know well that deep down it's what you want, because that's your nature, a nature that can't stand still, constantly searching for something new, for something very far away, as far away as possible from everything you've lost. , which however you try, you try again, you make films that could have been different, but instead it went exactly like that with all its baggage, but, perhaps, however.
Then it calms down, then it comes back, then it calms down, then it comes back.
Like that piece, that song that you want to hear, always.
That you put, put back, happens and will happen anywhere, in any place in the world, in any situation, in any way.
Suddenly.
Ready to take you, slam you, with violence and right there, you will have awareness and strength, to leave everything like this, or perhaps, to have it taken away, to start, perhaps, to live again and question everything again.
When the wind picks up.
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Poster The Winter Sea, Loredana Bertè.
Dark, almost black but with that yellow aspect like the sun on the horizon.
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