Roarr, Slurp e sbang!

It's still too early to start talking

You don't say a word, perhaps simply because there is no need, because you know that things, all things, can also be said in another way

You haven't given the world your first word yet and you seem to have no intention of doing so. At every interrogation the same sad, painful scene is always repeated: a thousand curious faces around and all the lights focused on you, as if you were the main suspect in the theft of the century who is about to announce the unspeakable truth worldwide, you with your mouth sewn in absolute silence. You demand freedom, you get up and leave, having fun making incomprehensible sounds, deluding everyone by warbling something at random and leaving the full meaning for another time. The hard truth is that, true to your bandit instincts, you began to roar before you spoke. You wander happily, alternating solemn roars with the cry of the caterpillar or the barking of the pterodactyl, sharp throws that break ears and perhaps even some glass.

Slouched in the high chair, you make the maximum effort of concentration when someone tries to make you eat and you think it's just time to play at covering your face with the bib, hoping that when someone uncovers your eyes someone will go peek-a-boo. You spend your time hiding behind a door and then yelling boo, making us die of laughter rather than fear, you go tirelessly back and forth, moving things from one place to another, until you trip over your pants and your face goes bang banging more or less loudly somewhere. Crumpled on the ground, at the mercy of an adverse fate that condemns you to a very boring break, you fake a code red illness and ask for assistance because five seconds have already passed, you have no desire to move on all fours, now that you're finding out when It's fun to just run on two.

From up there you have a completely different perspective, a perfect panoramic observatory for deciding which object to fall onto after taking a handful of steps. You see a piece of paper around the corner and slurp, you just can't help but bring it from your hand to your mouth. You hold out a hand into the void that is looking for another hand to hold on to to pull yourself up and start the dance again. It really doesn't work for you if the contact doesn't happen immediately, to protest against the delay you increase the frequency of your complaints until the moment of rescue. You are a continuous request for help, attention, rescue. You hold out your hand to be picked up and transported where you couldn't reach alone, a little hero who doesn't stop sending SOS until his helper comes running.

Stay in a primitive state that feels magical and essential. You don't say a word, perhaps simply because there is no need, because you know that things, all things, can also be said in another way. We are all small like you, we look up to the sky and our gaze is full of things we cannot reach. You arrive everywhere with the strength of desperation, sure that no one will be able to resist your tears. Boo, cuckoo, roarr, slurp and bang, from morning to night, until after a day of hiding, chasing and climbing, you fall asleep from exhaustion, just asking to have someone close to keep abandonments away. Your little heart knows that all you have to do is ask for help, sooner or later reinforcements will arrive.

Marco Grossetti

NP Giugno – Luglio 2023