going around and around, i imagine i'm getting closer, traveling through, and enjoy the ride. i see the dog walking by, i see the top of the cathedral peek out from around the corner as i swirl by! i see the shops running down the street and the people walking by them. i see the grey stones twirling below me, and i think that for 1.50 euro, this is a delight i can afford, and the next-best-thing to horseback riding in the countryside (high on my recurring list of must-add-to-my-life).
this poetic space between holding still and moving inside of yourself, this is the magic of the giostra for children over 12 years of age like us.
he's got a real horsehair tail, he's got gold details on his bridle, and although i've never named him, he's the grey/blue beauty i keep coming back to for occasional imaginary gallops through the city whenever i succeed in convincing (or cajoling) a friend or companion into hopping aboard with me.
on the cusp of soon-to-be-coming adulthood on the eve of my 13th birthday, i made a cassette tape of myself talking about the big event. i vividly remember promising myself that i would never stop playing. i saw the kids around me already adopting the mask of false self-importance, deadening spontenaiety, and pretending to be too grown up and too heavily-laden with the weight of other's observing eyes to respond to the world from their guts anymore.
i reasoned that since we're new here when we're born, we can simply observe that what adults are already doing doesn't seem to work or make them happy. so i thought it an obvious choice to do something different.
viva la bimba dentro. viva il bimbo dentro. di te.
