per i viaggiatori

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Non un marinaio e nemmeno un aviatore, ma un viaggiatore. Il mezzo non conta, conta la destinazione, qualcuno dice. Conta la voglia di esplorare, la voglia di vedere. Quello slancio continuo che altro non è che vivere inquieto. Rivo strozzato. Fiume alla ricerca di una foce.
Invece, il viaggio è tutto ed il mezzo è molto più viaggio della meta. Il fiume che arriva, già non è più fiume, ma mare. Allora, in questo sentire, il viaggio diventa la ricerca dell'annullamento di sé stessi. Una pace che può essere raggiunta solo attraverso qualcosa che non abbiamo, perchè noi stessi siamo l'irrequietezza che ci tormenta.

Forse, invece, il viaggio è iniziato molto prima. All'origine della voglia di iniziare un viaggio, c'è sempre un viaggio già concluso. Un ritorno che necessita di una nuova partenza. La stabilità, nel bene, è chimera. Uccidersi vuol dire non possedere più un ritorno, non essere mai più lontani da casa. Non apprezzare il proprio punto di partenza.
Se giro la testa e guardo indietro, l'anima si frantuma in pochi secondi.

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