Franco Battiato has such a delicious voice. I absolutely love his rendering of:
Cerco un centro di gravità permanente,
Che non mi faccia mai cambiare idea sulle cose
E sulla gente.
Avrei bisogno di…
He makes Italian transcend that vulgar fishmarket air! Ah how I love the word air (Gr: aér), and I absolutely love when Fey says:
Soñé por un momento que era aire
Oxígeno, nitrogeno y argón
Sin forma definida, ni color
Fui aire volador.
Air is this wonderful thing that clears and congests. It scares and excites me. And how the wind rages here! “When I am scared, I lock the door. Keep the darkness out until the sun shines again.” Air! Air! Air! How refreshing!
Ah! How I fear dreams! That cessation of this and the submergence into that. What a delectable! Perhaps I don’t fear dreams as much as I fear aliens or to be exact, encountering aliens! EEK!