Every stone has its own story
Every stone has its own story.
The story begins when I find it,
attracted by the colour, by its shape.
Then with chisel and hammer I try it,
I taste its hardness, how malleable it is.
I collect it as a fruit of the ground,
as a gift of that place.
It keeps me company for entire days.
I look at it and I watch it,
I turn it and move it.
I draw it and I sketch it.
I look at it again and I see the world and history.
Suddenly, the stone reveals itself
and everything becomes clear.
Hammer and chisel and time.
Time and gestures that evoke an ancient time,
that go to the root of the world.
I am not alone: the stone works with me.
Its colours, its veins drive me
and coerce me;
sometimes we fight,
more often we walk side by side.
The research is over, the stone revealed itself,
but there were other stones nearby.
They look at me, I look at them
and the story begins anew.