Born in Como on August 31, the day of Sant'Abbondio, patron saint of the city, in the sign of the virgin .... and as a young man I tried to cure my neuroses with tennis and tennis has become my first agar for many years , (field in Sumerian), the ancient text on which I really trained. The field is of red dust, thin earth, that principle, the Earth, which the Greeks made to become the principle of all things, even the principle of human life, of life in the universe, as if other planets had an earth sterile and ours was of an extra superior quality, capable of inventing me and everyone else. In tennis the dust lifts up, sticks to the body, makes the ball slide with a sound that is always the same and always different, similar timbre and wavelengths but different vibrations, makes rhythms resonate so close to the heartbeat that they bring the earth and its sound like a music where the best hits bloom: tum, tum, tum, tum ... .. echo of a sound of the earth of ancient times, of cultivation of fields, of rhythms of immense constructions, of dances, of steps that lost animals have trampled on it cohesively, as extinct as their sounds. In agar tennis, the longer the exchange becomes, the longer this mysterious sound descends into the chasms of the past, anesthetizes the present, and the effort of the exchange stuns like an ancient Dionysian dance, becomes that eternal presence that we will never be able to know, infinite footsteps and noises of the Earth, a unique rhythmic instrument, ... be born and perish ... ... tum, tum, tum, tum, tum ...
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