Acknowledgements

I'd like to thank all the heros and extras in my journey. It was a great show and I am glad it was set out for me. Id like to thank mom and dad for supporting me and taking care of my weary bones once back. Id never get tired of thanking Davið for his help and courage. Id like to thank Chopper for I found myself repeating his words to taste the power of a Manc believer. Id like to thank the Swiss policeman Michel and the Spanish diver Miguel for scooping me up from the streets. Id like to thank Alessandra for her help with the insurance and her patience with my mom. I thank Doctor Chandra Sen for his wisdom. I thank Baba for his teaching and friendlyness and I hope he is doing well. I thank all my friends, close and far away, for being my friends. Big it up!
M.

The answer is blowing in the wind

These boots were made for walking and that is what they did. These pair of shoes were ideated by that genius of Chuck Taylor, I assume they were made in Vietnam or thereabouts, purchased in the US, donated to me by Mr. Eli Cohen in Svalbard, assisted a fokking graduation in engineering (my own), walked me through the streets of Amsterdam, then brought me to Iceland, they supported me in my quest to get a place into an English drama school, walked me back and forth between school and home for a year, saw me happy and sad, brave and coward, served as brakes when my bike hadnt got any for months, led me to India, absorbed the piss and shit of half India through the holes in their soles. Their canvas got so sticky it was unreal. This pic was taken on Marine Drive, Mumbay, the day before I left the subcontinent. I didnt throw them into the ocean (although it would have been consistent with the Indian custom altogether), I didnt throw them into a bin. I just left them on Marine Drive, resembling a man watching the Arabian Sea in its dazzling beauty. Im back home now. I have got some annoying health issues to deal with and most of my memories are entagled with each other and blurred in these days. My body is a temple and I must take care of it as well as my inner soul. It will take time. It will take the right amount of time to be ready for the killing again.
But I am grinning.

The Beginning

And Marco Polo replied to the Great Kahn: "The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is already here, it is the inferno we live in everyday, that we form by staying together. There are two ways not to suffer from it. The first way is easy for many people: to accept the inferno and to become part of it until you cannot distinguish it any longer. The second way is risky and requires attention and constant learning: to look for and be able to recognize who and what, amidst the inferno, is not part of the inferno, and make it last, and give it space" (The Invisible Cities - Italo Calvino).

Mumbai, early in the morning, tha cab is running...even my asshole is grinning.

Past the last richshaw. Past the last million of richshaws. Past the last incence scent and the last fruits stall. Past the last temple, the last reassuring Ganesha image and the last fat brahamin. Past the last sari which allows you a glimpse of the perfectly carved spine of a woman, past the last colourful queue, the last stained tissue, the last family preparing their beds for a starry night on a city sidewalk. Past the last hustle and the last incomprehensible honk. Past the last puddle of urine and the last filthy kid. Past the last filthy soul in a stainless body and the last stainless soul in a filthy body, past the last pair of worn-out feet in a worn-out pair of chappals, past the last mystery and the last doorless train, past the last nonsense and the last pain, past Baba selling flowers for the devotees at the temple, past his smile and my gratitude, past the last last cup of chai, I leave India.

And a smiling face remains printed in my mind because, in the end, people can find joy everywhere.

the bill, please.

There is a new energy in my veins today, and it doesn't come from Doctor Chandra Sen's pills. I'm going home. I don't care. I'm just going home. I'm tired and fed up. I'm somehow fearing that the Indian spell did not happen to me, that I have not learned anything from this journey, from these people and this culture. I was looking for peacefulness for my mind but my head is a twirl of thoughts. My soul is aching and bleeding. It is bleeding for what I do not understand and for what I do understand too well. But somehow I know everything is here, like in Brahma's dream. Something had happened. It's deep, like a massive millstone which has turned. It needs time, time and courage. It takes courage to be alive. And I cry and I get ecstatic. The search is not over.

So you think you've learned the mysteries of the world? I'll take you to a place full eastern taste. So won't you come? Won't you come? Say the magic word and we can fly away. I do believe in the eastern palace. I'm sure it exists. But once you can get to the East, you know you can go further East, that you can get further undressed and more free. So I need to stop just for a minute. I need to observe my breathing just for an endless minute and quieten my mind. I am just sensations. And I am equanimous to them. Then, fearless, I set myself off. The search is not over.

Marco Nanetti's 7th dream

The diarrhoea has not stopped, yesterday while walking in the streets of Jaipur my limbs went numb, energy left my body all of a sudden. Made it to the hotel where my mates from meditation were and asked to rest in one their rooms. Had to take a train yesterday night and I missed it. Felt awful. They got a hotel room for me. Today they got me to a clinic. The doc said I have a severe bowels infection. When I got there I had 40 degrees of temperature and I was very dehydrated. I got 5 big sacks of fluid into my veins and sweated like a pig for 5 hours. Now I am feeling much better but tomorrow I have to go back to know the results from the blood test. Thanks to Michel, a Swiss police officer, and Miguel from Madrid I made it. Otherwise I think I would have collapsed somewhere in the streets. Less than a week is left for me in India. India is a dangerous country. I dont know what other surprises are left for me but the right time to go back home has come. This travel has all been about the right times to do things.

Vipassana

Like a speleologist I descended into the big cave of my own self for ten whole days. It is over now. Im back into town, a noisy spinning world. I left the monkeys, the peacocks, the jungle where we guys were meditating. 12 hours a day for 10 days, sitting on a cushion with my eyes closed. Waking up at 4 or 5am (for the lazy ones like me) and going to bed before 9:30pm. It took ages before I could even hope to harness my mind for more than ten minutes in a row. The technique is called Vipassana. It is Buddha's pure teaching somehow handed down from generation to generation until today. It teaches the self observation of your own body sensations and how not to react to them, with the consciusness that everything is temporary and impermanent. So simple, so hard to practise. But I can see myself changed a little already, calmer, more peaceful. We broke 10 days of noble silence just yesterday at noon and it was awesome to talk to people, expecially Indians. Everybody was smiling and wishing each other happiness. The real challenge is to keep practising and proceeding on the path to liberation from your own misery. In the meanwhile I got sick and had a strong diarrhoea which didnt help to ease out the process. The food wasnt the best (to say it was shit) and I could not get myself to eat much. Once I had just beaten rice cause I could not eat more. I sat in the dining hall eating plane dry beaten rice out of a metal plate. I felt like a fucking pigeon. I imagined it tasted like beef. I worked for some instants. I have a week left to reach Mumbai, meet Baba, exchange some words with him, get the last presents and leave the continent. I have met people who have done the most incredible things. There is no boundary to people's horizons but your own boundaries. It is just a statement, no particular judgement attached to it. Years back I was sitting in front of the fireplace at Lollo's. We were talking about Africa. Stefano, Lollo's father, a man who has seen the world he needed to see was remembering old adventures and his eyes were shining at those thoughts. But yet he was telling us about how important is to have a "life plan". At the time, I could not really get him. I thought he was being prudent. Now I do understand better his advice. The time for choices has come. It is now. For me at least. What my dad used to call "having the world in your pockets". A time for acceptance of the consequences will follow. Which is good. Which is good. I gotta go now, with hands and feet. M.

ocus phocus

Asia is a camel. When Asia is pregnant of another Asia, it carries it in India. I am there. I am right there where the conception has taken place. All I can hear are the movements of this universal phoetus. Liquid movements. A creation moving in a womb. I am in a desertic area off Bikaner, Rajasthan. I, a guide and a boy. For fourty minutes I've thought they'd leave me here to sleep alone , but they are back now. If the boy shuts up, I'd be glad. The camels are two sleeping sphynxes. I have my thoughts, good or bad, it doesnt matter. I am as complicated as the entire creation. I am Marco, and I am here. I've cut a pineapple with the favour of the night. I've pierced the skin, deepened my knife into the pulp like a thief of vitamins, sucking up the warm juice and the yellow colour. In the desert I've laid down and looked at the deep blue sky. White clouds forming up. The noise of a continent has disappeared. In the desert I dont need to think. I need to close my eyes and let my mind graze on this beloved mother earth.

For the first time I took off my shoes and sockes and walked proudly into the temple. It happened like that, after more than a month, let alone in the dirtiest of all places. Thousands of rats running around and people feeding them. Holy creatures. Giant bowls of milk for the rodents to quench their thirst, rats smelling each other's ass, climbing up gates, running after someone else's tail. I prayed into the rat temple.

Today, I have bought a turbant. A flash pink turbant. I should wear a vest along with it.

of rice and other rice based dishes

Hyderabad. A place that has been ruled by the Muslim for ages. Amazing palaces and mosques. Shapes are sexier here and architecture gives your mind room for thinking. Yesterday I visited the Golconda Fort. It used to be an amazing citadel protected by three sets of walls. The first requisite to become a soldier was to be able to lift a 120kg weight with one arm. There were 27000 soldiers. People from Delhi sieged the fort in vain for 8 months. A commander betrayed his king and his people and opened the gates at night. Can honesty be measured in kg? I dont know. I could see the king resting in his rooms at the top of the hill, relaxing on his swinging bed overlooking the land, at sunset. A sentinel on the watch could clap and be heard for 5 miles. I could see the queen and the royal ladies protected by a core of eunuchs getting ready for the 7pm's daily theatre show. I could hear people whispering in the darkness of the secret rooms. I could see the engineers working to construct the amazing system of water storage and delivery. It was an amazing citadel and a corrupted soul gave it away. But this is part of human nature after all. I sat in the shade of the portico surrounding a funeral dome of one the 7 kings who ruled the fort. There's an area plenty of domes and granite tombs. It is amazing. Couples of lovers hide behind the columns, shelter inside the forsaken mosques, sit on the dark tomb slabs. It came to rain and I waited there for an hour or two. In the past amazing things were done. Sometimes when I think about the present days I cannot find comparison. How many things can a man realize in that brief span of time which is given to him? How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? I dont know. You look at old pictures and people's eyes seem to say, dude, dont even thinkabboutit, just do it. But it is hard, for fuck's sake. I went on a short boat trip to the giant Buddha statue in the middle of the lake. It was dark and the statue was lit. Relaxing music was softly playing and kids were there with their families. I felt protected and at ease. I came back after a while and a dad was surprised of how an engineer like me could still be unmarried. We both laughed.

Favole a cura di Gios

Fairy tales by Gios (read Jos). When I was a kid you could call this special service on the telephone and then choose among a hundred fairy tales to be selected by dialling a number from 1 to 100. One was entitled: "The yellow bus". Here it is for you. There is super deluxe night bus bound from Ooty to Bangalore. Super Deluxe means you pay a bit more for your extra confort, like a personal fan at just 10cm from your head, a tv set with a frame in fake "radica", but most of all much more room for your legs and the possibility to recline your seat to an almost horizontal position. All this to enjoy the 8 hours of journey in between the two cities. While boarding the guests are welcomed with a cheerful Indian music on the speakers. Wooow. The journey begins. There is only one foreigner on board. Before falling asleep people might want to let their thoughts running for a while, perhaps enjoying the rumble of the engine or their own music in their personal headphones. But the cheerful music is always there, with shit loads of drums and other instruments. No worries, the controller, who is in a separate cabin (together with the driver) from the rest of the passengers is gonna surely turn it down or off anytime soon, on this luxurious super deluxe yellow bus. The road is downhill since the bus is descending from a mountain area and it is very bumpy. The driver almost doesnt brake while turning down the hairpin bends. Passengers are squeezed to one side and to the other alternatively. After one hour the music is still fucking going as laud as before. It starts to become very annoying but nobody shows signs of distress. Indian people seem to sleep with the lights out but with the music playing. The foreigner goes and talk to the controller. How rude! the music goes off. The foreigner is relieved but feels guilty to use freely his reclining seat because the muslim guy behind him likes to sleep either leaning with his head again his seat or with his legs pointed against it. Fuck! In the menwhile someone is heard to feel sick in the back. It is dark and the foreigner cant figure out what is actually happening. Probably just a hoax. First stop, in the middle of the night. The controller comes in calling the stop and switches the light on. He has a look and starts to speak even faster than usual and more angrily. There is sick all over the aisle with streams of liquid running up to front and a pair of woman slippers amidst. The controller goes nuts and blocks everything in order to inquire and find the guilty being. Everyone negates and no name is made. Even those who are right besided the puddle of sick negate with a look of surprise at being accused. It is disgusting. The yellow super deluxe bus sets off again and the music goes suddenly on for the second time. Ah, maybe the controller wants to punish the people for what has just happened and keep them awake. IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE OR WHAT?!?! NOBODY EVEN FUCKING COMPLAINS! the foreigner, in shock and amazement, takes care of the matter for the second time. The journey goes on for hours with the smell of sick hovering in the air. Thank you Gios for this amazing fairy tale. Looking forward to tomorrow's!!!
Got to Bangalore at 5am. Just early enough to see people waking up, cleaning their nest on the asphalt and tranforming it into their personal shop, cows munching among heaps of rubbish and battered dogs continuing sleeping. Being a dog in India is probably the worst thing it could ever happen to you in your circle of reincarnation. I visited the mosque and appreciated the big empty spaces apt to praying. The market was coming to life (did it ever go to sleep?). If I were an Indian woman Id like to wear a necklace of fresh flowers everyday. Every woman in the world would need one to celebrate her own beauty.

Planning

Yes, I'm gonna be a star. Baby, you can drive my car. And maybe I love you. Beep beep, beep beep yeah! I made it. The steam locomotive made my day. I got a place by the window (left side) in the last row of seats of the last car. The beast was just behind me, pushing, whistling and steaming. I could hear the sound and the smell. It took us 5 hours to get up the mountains (46km). The landscape was so beautiful. Misty mountains covered in jungle, brooks and small waterfalls, bridges and little stations inhabited by monkeys. Short tunnels. Men with moustaches in working clothes with giant monkey wrenches. I and the otehr kids in the compartment were probably equally excited. If my friend Pipps were with me he would have had a boner. Lemon guaranteed. I didnt get that far but it was awesome. Had a long stroll around this small village. It reminded me of different parts of the world: northern Italy, Africa and even Torshavn. As well as India. I kicked back by the lake. Tenths of girls in uniform where having fun in the amusement park. I was missing a buddy to go on a rowing boat with. So I put some good music in my headphones. This evening Im catching a bus to Bangalore and on Friday morning I'll be in Hyderabad. And suddenly the road opens up and who has enough steam be free.

you haven't earned it yet, baby

I apologize for publishing a post after such a long time. These last days have been as dense as Nutella. As sweet as Nutella. I felt in love. If I tell you the girl is thirteen you'd think I am a pedophile. You should have seen her. Simple and intriguing as the coconut milk and ashes mix she uses as an eyeliner. A holy woman hugged me and this was not a trivial thing, although I was one in more than 26 million people. We estabilished an eternal relation with each other and I hope to live up to it. I saw a body burning away on the beach. Wooow. I had to take a shower and change my clothes loaded with negative energy afterwards. I reached the southern most point of India and I looked towards Antarctica. Everybody wants it. I spent the afternoon with Sanjib (a guy of my same age) and I understood my principles deserve to be revised. That was an intense afternoon. I dined with Giammarco who told me about his experience as a volunteer in Mother Theresa's mission in Kolkata. I was stuck in a train for 8 hours to cover 300 km. A fucking joke. I spent two lovely days with Siobhan, a crazy photographer from Holland and we went ring shopping together. We also went to the movies for a Bollywood experience. Now I am bogged down in a tropical south that doesnt want to let me go. I am a bit tired of being on the road. I need healthy food and more food. I need to breathe. I'll wake up at 5 am tomorrow to try to get a ticket for the four coach train bound to Ooty. I'll be able to see awesome places in the mountains, so they say.
There is one God. Call him as you want, it doesnt matter anymore. So far India has been an awesome example of religious tolerance and integration. Jesus came this far, it is amazing. But he is one out of many amazing people. Hugging people is amazing. Somebody has doveted her life to it. You might not like the thosands of people dressed in white around her. The smiling faces, the perfect meditation positions, the spiritual names. I didnt like most of it too. But the centre around which the community lives is amazing. All the answers are whitin ourselves. But it is a hard job, mostly down to will power. A matter of priorities in the end. I felt stuck and alone, a stupid renegade. Just because my mind is not ready yet and my heart is shy. It took hard days of trying to understand, just to see the light for a wink. And now I am feeling all the weariness on me. Im fed up with this continuos noise, with the pushing, with the shit all around me. Things are settling within me and I need to take it easy. It is like running a marathon while digesting a Xmas meal.
If you feel confused by this post don't worry, I am feeling confused and tired right right now. And I dont feel like writing anymore. But let's make a promise all together. Let's never stop learning, let's never settle on our personal and cultural pillars. The essence of man is so delightfully complicated and it requires constant effort and curiosity, good predisposition towards our own selves and the others. Flexiblility is a virtue and so is humility. I sat on the pier and was watching the sea. There is something awesome about reaching a cape and feeling the continent breathing behind you. There is a massive stone statue looking over India from down there. I was waiting for a 20m high surge of water to create out of nothing and hit me and my weakness but it didnt come. Thank God it didnt. Thank God it didnt. I have a chance to countinue my journey and change for the better.

jagged little pill

Back on the east coast. It is so humid, I am sweating like in a dream. I had forgotten how humid it can get. Tomorrow there is a snake boat race which is apparently a big event. They will show some dancing and live performances along with the competition. Sonija Ghandi is invited to the party as well. She is Italian and she is a minister. Awesome! People seem to love her here. My hotel bedroom is a cell with a bed and a metal desk. Toilets are shared. Im hoping to find somebody to share a house boat for Sunday night to sail through the canal system and sleep under the stars (the price is quite high) and on Monday I wanna go to Amma's ashram. Amma is a lady guru famous for hugging her devotees. Apparently she can hug more than a thoudand every blessing session. Im quite close to the tip of the continent. I'll head there soon to watch the sun rising on the Bengal sea and set on the Arabian sea while Indian is watching. So far so good. Roger.

Pure oil to take over your world, and a bit further

Mysore. Almost plane moon. Rose milk in my body and no signs of detoxification so far. But all the roads lead to meditation. Ive signed up for a 10 day vipassana course in Jaipur in September. Who made who? I dont have a fucking clue. Is that the real question though? No, I don't even want the answer to that. Today I saw the Eastern Palace. I entered it. I was explained. I cannot imagine anything more beautiful and more fresh and rewarding than that. But I left with the feeling that the Eastern Palace is not an actual building, it is an inner place, it is a state of freedom, of inner majesty. How to reach that state is my real adventure and its rooms and golden doors are what I am looking for. I have been there few times in my life, moments, instants, Ive been unveiled beauties and splendour and calm and happiness. Therefore I know my objective is achievable somehow. I try to be logical but I am just groping in the dark. I can't repress this need of mine though. An honest life of failure can be better than a dull life of perfection. And besides all the bullshit, this is my story, take it or leave it. These were yesterday evening's thoughts of mine. Some of them, come on!
Today I went to the zoo. They keep tigers in cages smaller than my fucking hotel bedroom. It is a fucking shame. They are beautiful animals and they have the power in theirs bodies. You can smell it, even at the zoo. Elephants are funny beasts. When they eat grass, they throw part of it on their backs. In less than two hours I will go to the slickest spa resort in town to get an hour ayurvedic massage over the whole body. Wowaweewow! NICE!

Bangalore's vibe and a zillion people in the market

If you can't stand the heat, then get off my street!
Everything is fine. Today a guy tried to pick me up at the botanical gardens in a very slimy way. Today I had the best tahli ever. Today I met a very nice guy and he offered me a fag and gave me directions. Today ain't finished yet. I am in the centre of Bangalore's night life. Babes out here are pretty nice, I'd better leave this internet point and get the night started. I look such a tourist, I even have the little backpack with the little toothpaste and brush on my shoulders. But who cares!
I made a reflection today. I am quoting Vann here: "you cant know the limit until you have reached it". I am quoting Cohen: "even if you can, it doesnt mean you should". It is a fine fine line and a matter of responsibilites. But we are expert tailors with the instinct of animals. That's simply the way we do. The fun is all here. And to be honest, I would not want it otherwise.

Monticelso tutti frutti

If there is no holy man there are no pilgrims. If there are no pilgrims there is no holy man. You see, everybody needs each other. And it is beautiful to be part of this big happening that is human life. These last days I have been a pilgrim. On Monday I risked to die squeezed in between hundreds of people in the cages leading to the golden temple. I waited for six hours standing, skin to skin with kids, old men, women and men eager, ravenous to pass the several doors that lead to the temple. I was scared for real. But I eventually made to the temple which is completely covered in gold and silver, I made my wish, I touched what I needed to touch, I admired the power of the Gods and his ministers and I collected my sweets. Today I waited for 3 hours to see Sai Baba, in a much more civil way no doubt. We sat in the temple singing for one hour in front of Sai Baba who looks like an old Valderrama (football player from Colombia). I was sceptical seeing so many vanilla faces dressed in white robes meditating like perfect buddahs but I must admit that when Sai Baba appeared my heart let go and I was light and relieved in the moment. And although I was not lucky enough to be in the first row and give him my letter with my wishes on it, I could see that people really tried hard to sneak further in front to give him theirs. If he gets your wishes they become true. It was a lovely moment. Sai Baba is 83 right now and he spoke to people like the Beatles and such in the past. It was a circle closing up for me. Now I sense I have to move on, that my journey is just at the beginning. I need to stay with people, with street people. I need to not be scared. I need to take off my shoes and be brave enough to walk barefoot. I need to respect more. It is hard to explain if you are not me, which you are not indeed. Well, if you are concerned it is all good. I feel I cannot have enough of exploring and that the time is not enough. But when has time ever been enough? Yes, living is a matter of choices, of right moments and right timing. Whatever you choose is the right choice in the end but if you believe you can do everything, then you are a fool. SHANTI SHANTI SHANTII!

Dirty Diana

Went up to the monkey temple. Locals call it like that. I understood I don't understand. Watermelon juice. Yes, I came back to talk to the holy man but he was sleeping and so down went I and crossed the river back to the village. Lemon&mint juice. I bought a ring that will give me power, but it is not the one yet. I felt greedy for jewels and money. Money and how I relate to it is one of the most interesting things in India so far. Pineapple juice. Bartering is great. In western countries they take all the fun out of trading. Trading is one of the most important experiences in human relationships. Sitting in the shop of the Iranian guy before going back to my hotel room was so much fun. Mosambi juice. People are most interested in where I am from. I have been saying Italy more often than my name. Btw, water is holy. Where there is water there is life. And all the rest comes with it. Papaya juice. I feel I have been in a room for ages, walking by the wall again and again, I know all the cracks by heart. I can't find the way out but I feel there is a way out somewhere. It is all a matter of being able to wait, of being able to respect my ownself, of allowing myself, of not being afraid. I have been told there is a whole Eastern Palace to visit, I can smell the scents, I can hear the music and the women maliciuosly laughing I can dream of the new tastes and of the new colours, I want to join the party so bad.

Laxmi and the blessing trunk

Today I met a priest. He made little sense here. Everything I see belongs to the God of the Monkeys. He sits up there in the temple, overlooking the village and the ancient town. He has got monkeys as ministers and human beings worship him with mysterious rituals and a great deal of money exchange. I am feeling excluded and foreign because I can't understand and Im securing myself within the walls of western values and comfort. I have too many questions and no answers yet. I am mentally tired. All I need is relaxing and letting things happen. Like today, when I was sitting on the doorsteps of the train, looking at the landscape, the few groups of farmers here and there, and giving shapes to the trees...

who made who

Goa. A dump for westerners. I need to get the fuck out of this place. It is full of market stands selling things you can find in my hometown. Sellers even know stupid rhymes in Italian. Old hippies are here and there to be seen but they look passe' and drained up. The Blue Tao restaurant was good though: i had tufu with spinach cream and rice, plus papaya and pineapple fresh juices. No flea market tomorrow (the famous one) because it is off season. It rains every two hours and you cannot even have a bath in the ocean. Yesterday I ended up in a sort of Waikiki hotel close to Malvan. I had a shack by the beach all on my own and a she-dog as a friend. I spent most of the day hallucinating in bed because I was sick. Nothing I had expected to get in India: a heavy cold due to coming in and out of AC restaurants in Mumbai. I had fever as well. I had fish for dinner in this empty restaurant while listening to Indian murmuring away. Today I feel much better although I am still clogged. I am thinking more and more about Rajasthan and the lands at the border with Nepal and Pakisthan. Who knows? I'll head to Hampi tomorrow. The train from Mumbai is an awesome experience. The day before getting on it I was quite scared and unsettled. The are no doors, grids out of the windows and huge fans on the ceiling. It is all blu, on the inside and on the outside. There are people talking all the time and selling tea and snacks at every hour of the night. It is noisy. There are no compartments. The more peple you fit the more efficient. Like in the bus this morning: we were paked like sardines. And the train whistles now and again like in the stories you tell kids. India is killing me softly with its way and Im liking it.

swallowed

Ive met quite a few people. Ive heard quite a few stories already. Some things have been foretold to me. Some others have been totally unexpected. I see their immediate effect on my body, I see myself changing. With every bracelet I tie to my wrist, with every wish I make, with every step I take to pass through the gateway of India, I am compromising myself with no way back. Im sure the gateway of India is what people call the Horacle of the South. Only if you believe in something you will survive. If you don't believe, if you don't have any wish, if you are not curious to understand you are gonna... I don't even know. I don't even care to tell. I am folliwing hidden paths. I found my first baba, and he sells flowers but gives the stories away for free as presents. I have been on a Bollywood set (this is for you Sophie and Mr. Urey) pretending to be an exhausted hostage in the Taj Mahal Hotel, scared to death by blokes in fake uniforms, running away in the corridors at the word "action!!!", screaming RUMPA RUMPA (the Swedish word for ass) and exchanging amazing stories with Marion on the steps of a run-down hotel where five years ago a couple of murders took place. We got five hundred rupees for 14 hours, equal to 5days' worth of wage of a taxi driver. The locals, with us foregneirs on the set, didnt even get the money, they just got offered a dinner. I tell you what, fuck Bollywood! They could suck my fucking dick! When Mr David Vann was talking about responsibilities when you work in the industry, well I guess this could be a nice example. I rather prefer to meet the crazy artist that tells me that WORLD stands for Walking, Organizing, Reproducing, Lord, Dying. The meaning of life for dummies. And for geniuses as well. Thats all you need to know. The street is hard. It keeps you there. Chained. Squeezed. Under the sun and the rain. Crammed in between zillions of people. Washing clothes besides your neighbour's corpse. But that's natural. Cause the road leads you to different cultures, it smacks you in the face once, twice, and wait a minute, here is the third. You can fall in love on the road, real quick. I mean real quick. Woow. And then you have to go. No, I don't want your fucking drum! Wait, I just wanted to...yeah, one more hour, a few more words. But sometimes you are on a schedule. And it's gone. It takes strength. When you dont have anything to eat. When you are dirty and sweated. And there is dirt for miles and miles, piled up. The ocean is as dirty but at least is big and you can breath. But deep in the urban jungle of humanity you have to pay even for breathing. But all the roads eventually lead somewhere. And thats exactly where you are bound to. I have no plans, except for a train tonight, southwards bound. I have no real questions to ask. I am fucking eager to listen. Listening is much more important for me now. You take what you need. I take what I need. Right and wrong are almost meaningless. Just and unjust...well, it can be painstaking to define. Appropriate is a really nice concept though. Peace and love. Life is fun, fuck everyone! A teenager has just taught me this. Over.

And now fighting is up to you, young people of the world,

Do not come to compromises upon the duty of loving

Laugh at those who'll tell you about prudence

About convenience

At those who'll tell you to keep the right balance.

The worst predicament that could ever happen to you

Is that you are not helpful for anybody

And that your life is useless.

Follereau

I dont know why but I am scared, more than usual. Is it the right time then?

Someone told me once that even if you can it doesnt mean you should.

My head is a mess. The Eastern Palace, this is where I am set off to. Oh my God!

In the den

I got injected three times today. My body is like an armour against the evils of civilization, at least so have they told me at the medical centre. I am going to India in less than two weeks. Mama is in the alley collecting precious information to make me go safe, daddy doesnt know yet, I am in the kitchen juggling with a pair of dreams. Im grinning. I can see myself cruising in a taxi from the airport into the town of Mombai, that's it. That's all I can see. I dont know what the fuck is waiting for me. I have been thinking about me outfit for a long time though: a grey suit, mocassini shoes, light-blue cotton socks up to the knee and a light pink shirt. That's it. Let me go wherever I wanna go. Join me if you please or otherwise just step out of my way.