Even though I’ve got no talent at all to play any note (I don’t even dare singing in the shower), I have an obsession with putting soundtrack to the moments of my life.
The seasons, weather, time of day, the place where I am and of course my mood mark the soundtrack of the moment I’m living. This causes, sometimes, some humorous comments of my partner about my peculiar logic in choosing the music in question.
– You’re not going to put jazz today!
– And why not? Since when you do not like Bob Acri?
– Since it’s a summer Saturday morning and now is not the time …
The point is that, as I said in my last post, the rain and the cold start to undermine my humor. So, lately, I’ve allowed a small missteps in choosing music while I work to dive into the music file in my mind as “warm sunset while on holiday.”
The Italian tarantelas are a good example of the kind of music that reminds me of heat, carefree walks, the yellow light of the midday sun and the ubiquitous chirping of cicadas. This popular music was created in southern Italy in the nineteenth century and they believed that the one who danced it could be cured of a tarantula’s bite.
I don’t think the chances of a tarantula bitting me at the office are very large, but in any case, it is an antidote to despair. I leave a piece of L’Arperggiata that I particularly like.