The night journey of the last express train.
From south to north.
Its sounds. And the images spied from the large
windows ... stolen, found.
All in the suspended time of a magical night.
A journey that is both real and symbolic, external
and internal, which has experienced insomnia or the drowsiness of many people.
The train of emigrants, students, sudden
travelers.
The last remaining espresso. The last sign of
ancient hope. That of… flying away.
Dedicated to Carmelo Bene
