Dopo oltre una settimana in cui ho rinunciato all’uso dell’auto, ricorrendo a qualsiasi mezzo di trasporto alternativo, dalla metro alla bicicletta, al car sharing al dirigibile, stamani mi son messo alla guida intorno alle 6:20 per iniziare un giorno che si preannunciava peso, e che ha mantenuto questa proiezione fino a confermarsi una vera giornata di merda.

Mi si è parato davanti alla strada un coniglio bianco. Istantaneamente ho cominciato a canticchiare:

One pill makes you larger, And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you, Don’t do anything at all
Go ask Alice, When she’s ten feet tall

Si, “White Rabbit”, dei Jefferson Airplane, dal loro album del 1967 “Surrealistic Pillow”, inserito nel filone definito “Psychedelic”, o meglio “Acid Rock” dalla pesante influenza di eccipienti lisergici o altri cocktail di droghe allucinogene che erano consumate all’epoca dai componenti della band come si trattasse di mentine per mantenere fresco l’alito.

La canzone, oltre al chiaro riferimento con Alice nel Paese delle Meraviglie (vedi questo post), ricorda anche il soprannome di Owsley Stanley, detto Bear, che nella seconda metà degli anni ’60 era conosciuto nella contro-cultura dell’area di San Francisco anche come “White Rabbit”: noto soprattutto come il principale chimico produttore di LSD in larghe quantità.

And if you go chasing rabbits, And you know you’re going to fall
Tell ’em a hookah smoking caterpillar, Has given you the call to
Call Alice, When she was just small

La canzone, scritta da Grace Slick che ha anche realizzato “Somebody to Love”, è stata poi suonata a Woodstock e immortalata nei 3 giorni di Pace e Musica, dal 15 al 18 Agosto 1969 con “Volounteers”.

When the men on the chessboard, Get up and tell you where to go
And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom, And your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice, I think she’ll know

When logic and proportion, Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards, And the Red Queen’s “off with her head!”
Remember what the dormouse said; Feed your head, Feed your head

Foto? Non un coniglio bianco, ma un gatto blu psichedelico nelle strade di Asakusa, mentre facevo danni in Japan all’inizio di Aprile …

cat


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It has been more than fifty years since I began traveling across the world — and the seven seas — for work or for pleasure, always with a Leica M camera close at hand. The camera has never been an accessory; it has been a constant companion, a way of observing, remembering, and making sense of the places and people I encountered along the way. I started keeping this kind of journal some time ago, not as a diary in the traditional sense, but as a space where images and words could meet. This is not a publication driven by schedules or algorithms. At times I disappear for long stretches; then, inevitably, I return with semi-regular updates. Publishing, for me, is a mirror of my state of mind and emotions. It follows my rhythm, not the other way around. You have to take it exactly as it comes. Every photograph you see here is mine. They are fragments of a life spent moving, looking, and waiting for moments to reveal themselves — often quietly, sometimes unexpectedly. This blog is not about destinations, but about presence. About what remains when the journey slows down and the shutter finally clicks.

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