Viaggio Inutile n.1

I undertook a 6-hour blindfolded journey, accompanied by Marta Zigante and dear friends, here’s what happened:

The first minutes were difficult. Beginning to get used to trust, to darkness. Immediately after, however, the anxiety was overcome by the calm of not having control. The peace of not seeing what is happening around me. The peace of not having to worry about it.

It seems that cars are animals, as if they were breathing on me, and the noises are roars, I feel their warmth.

I count the branches of a tree. Branches towards the sky. It seems like a sad tree. It seeks perfection in every branch. Branches separate and rejoin like roads. Fear of heights, without sight I don’t worry. I am on a tree and I don’t know how far it is from the ground. I don’t care. Before jumping from the tree, rationality reminded me of the danger. Then I thought, I’m here now. If I had seen, I wouldn’t have done it.

The music is much louder than usual. I can’t focus on anything other than the music. A thousand dishes with a thousand sounds. The lines of sound pass through me. A field with this drum sound resonating.

Walking easy, fast, natural.

A person next to me. I feel observed. I feel their body moving imperceptibly. As if a shadow were holding my hand. Good hand. Good darkness. Good oblivion. The sublime becomes a friend.

On a carousel. It feels like being in a dream, underground. My voice near and far. Sounds move away and come closer.

Mental patterns imprison me. It is difficult to disconnect the reality I know with my eyes from the one I feel with the other senses. A tree could also be a dragon for all I know.

In the dark I met some Portuguese people. I felt a lot of nostalgia and affection.

I dance with the shadows, a tango.

I look for the shadows

Good shadows, ironic, silent but caring. Hands without a face.

Shadows that laugh I only feel from the spasms they have, silent.

Damp and cold trees, trying to touch the sky, with a thousand arms, I climbed. Without knowing how tall something is I don’t worry. Strong arms of life

Loud and invasive sounds. Like lines they pass through me or brush against me. Voices, cars, music, conversations, steps, rustling. I see music as curved lines. Cars as straight, piercing lines.

Cars seem like animals with breath on the neck and a grunt of anger.

Tree dragon, angular and rigid. Good dragon let itself be stroked. A friendly snout. Satisfying tactile sensation.

Without sight all visual masks vanish, you don’t see and you believe you are not seen because you don’t see the reaction and expression of the other.

I spoke with some Portuguese people because I heard them and I felt at ease. Language of home. It was like talking with someone known. They had familiar voices.

I hit my leg. Pain and echo. Maybe stronger than usual. I can’t quite understand. At home I realized I had bled.

Walking simple, beautiful, relaxing, I trust Marta and there were no problems. Steps sometimes tiring to go down, but we go slowly and everything is fine.

With the shadows I realized how misleading words are, how much we try to express ourselves and impersonate a character with the voice. Without voice you only feel gestures and vitality, always good.

When the shadows finally spoke it was sad, giving a form to what before was gaseous. It was like losing a friend with infinite arms, a sweet smile and irony.

Sounds of shadows, confusing, I felt in a concert of voices in continuous movement. Jumps of sound and movement. Lines that meet and clash.

The hands of the shadows that touch me and add up, they seem infinite, they arrive one by one and then one by one disappear.

On the carousel, cold wind, distant and near sound, my voice changes.

I was not able, except halfway through, to dematerialize the place I was in. I was looking for rationality even without wanting to, I was trying to give a name, a definition to what I touched, felt and smelled. Misleading, I felt prisoner of my mental patterns that did not let me fully live the sensory experience.

Benches lost in nothingness, with only the conception of leaves around, but as if around there was darkness and nothing.

Shadows are oblivion, good oblivion. The sublime becomes a friend and companion.

Narrow and glass avenues, delicate labyrinth. Bright and warm. People brushing against me or bumping into me.

Shadows that make distant and near sounds, sometimes giant sometimes far away. Sometimes it disappears. Silent.

I walked with a shadow. It wasn’t Marta. I realized it when Marta’s voice was far away.

Eating blindfolded, warm place, small glasses, colored tiles and tasty food. Even too much. Strange sensation.

I did not lose control, I lost the sense of time and place but not control. I trusted but I did not switch off my brain

I probably made many mistakes but without giving in the damage did not weigh on me, I was in a mental state of calm and lightness.

Sight causes me anxiety, I observe and try to understand and keep everything under my control and comprehension. If I don’t see I am calmer. I let go of these senseless things. I feel everyone good and sweet. I only feel the positive and the safe.

Noisy animals, they make monkey-like sounds.

Water has a dull and muddy sound, heavy. It falls

Dark cave closed by a gate, magic of darkness with slow falling water. Curiosity and desire to enter

If you don’t see you don’t think you are seen. You are no longer your character, your mask, because you don’t see their masks. All defense patterns fall. Defenseless. You listen more and from how a person expresses and moves you understand their mode. Which is less misleading.

Seeing is tiring.

A shadow steals the photos from my hand. As if it didn’t want me to recognize it. Do shadows see each other?