My lady's breast - Reflections at the end of the cycle

My lady’s breast


​We were in lockdown at the time. I was alone, at home, thinking of my Woman, who couldn't join me, even though we lived a few kilometers away. It was a really difficult moment, I know now, but while we were living it, supported by the insinuating propaganda of the TV, which told us to be quiet and know how to wait, because our sacrifices would not have been in vain, I made myself strong, phoning my loved ones and dedicating myself to my passions. That was the juncture in which the new Tyranny took office, now it is clear: everyone at home, recluse, without social contacts, sad, making biscuits and bread. It was there that my thoughts took flight, coming from her who has given new meaning to my life: my Partner. So I began to reflect on the value of her wonderful breasts and I came to the conclusion that I had to place the world of emotions and thoughts that it aroused in me in a score. Thus she was born "My lady's breast". In that period everything was so confused that, if armed with analytical skills and critical sense, one could not believe a single word in the media. In fact, it would later be discovered that they were all blatantly lying. The great machination was in motion. I was with my people, the dissidents, I could do nothing but clean the windows of my windows and call my fiancée. There, in those moments, hoping that the pandemic would not last long, as the newspapers said, I raised my gaze towards Beauty, deciding to paint, with sounds, the amazement of an embrace that could not exist yet, the grace of a smile, that was only in memory and the warmth of hands that find you, warm, loving and healthy. My Partner couldn't be there with me, but I could describe her memory of her voice, always so loving and sinuous, the way she drinks her coffee in the morning, how she smiles at an unexpected surprise. We didn't know it, even the best informed couldn't have revealed it, but in those days a regime of terror was being established. A police state. A legalized scam to deceive all the peoples of the West, which, for some time, was no longer rich. So I made an effort to imagine how nice the meeting with my partner would be. How wonderful it would have been to hear the sound of her little feet moving around the house. I wrote how much I missed, in every way, not to perish. Now I know: at that time they were killing all our legitimate aspirations. We were all in jail, with no escape. The state, which until then, had tolerated us as anomalies, we who never believed the lies of the system, was now hitting us, in our constitutional rights, and was winning hands down. For a certain historical phase, the institutions had pretended to put up with us, with our revolutionary charge. At that precise moment, however, it was established that the different should be affected, in their ability to support themselves, in their affections, in their desire to live happily despite a blindly indifferent state. They appealed to man's most atavistic fear, that of dying. There was death everywhere. Television broadcast scenes of sickness and death at any hour of the day or night, bulletins of deaths rolled out like news from a football field. We were trapped. The only beautiful thought of my day was to talk to those I love. Listen to their voices. Dreaming of a reunion. Thus was born "My lady's breast", "The breast of my partner", in the struggle between good and evil, between life and death, not wanting to resign to an unhealthy idea of the world. Hoping for a new kiss. We didn't quite know what they were doing to us. We were disoriented. The extent of what was happening was greater than the darkness that our analytical skills could perceive, even though dissonant signals were arriving from many quarters for those who were searching for the truth. We were all trapped, yes, but some were trying to figure out what the real dominant dynamics were to take into account. We lived suspended. Our existence was in hibernation and no one could have told us clearly how long that agony would last. It was a trickle. The newspapers poured out death numbers, with an empathy of 0. We were told that there was nothing left for us to do but stay indoors. So I decided to plan my typical day: I would do the household chores, I would compose that piece that seemed beautiful to me right from the start. One morning I was alone at home, noise far from the building, the beginning of a Chopin ballad came to mind. Reflexes. I too wanted, for my score, something that would have an effect similar to that of the Polish genius in that composition. I started improvising on the keyboard. A few notes, the certainty of the desired effect: a particular chord, to which I had added a sound, to create a sensation of harmonic motion. I played the construct several times. I immediately went to my desk to write it. I knew, at that precise moment, that I had something precious in my hands. I stayed a few seconds listening to those sounds. They were beautiful. They smelled of the desire I had for my Partner. I felt satisfied. That was my way of not perishing under the ax of a system designed to hate men, annihilate them and enslave them. This state and the West do not love us. They disguised their true nature for decades after the end of the Second World War, but now they have come out into the twisted spiral of Capital that needs headless subjects. They do not have a personal and social realization project for us. They don't want us happy, but afraid and conditionable. At the end of the morning, to that truly beautiful chord, I added other harmonies, played them carefully on the keyboard and began to observe the avenue from the window. There was no one around: a ghostly sight. Now I know that everything they did to us was deeply wrong. Criminal. Absurd and in the absurd you cannot find meaning, you can only cultivate your own internal world in the hope of being able to get better soon. I thought of my partner, who was always with me, although the only way to be with her was the evening phone call. We were not prepared for the establishment of terror. No one was, not even the most pessimistic, since what was happening was truly monstrous. It was all illogical. None of us could have understood, because that sort of psychosis of theirs escapes the understanding capacity of a human being seeking health. They told us there was a terrible disease and that we would die. We were all distressed. Everyone, then, appealed to their own strength so as not to end badly. I thought of my companion, she was my happy thought. "My lady's breast" was taking shape. Little by little, I developed the structure, which, from the few notes played on the keyboard, was becoming an orchestral piece. Capital is generated with the contribution of sociopathic minds and the obedience of the majority. Now he wants everything and he will take everything if we let him. They entered people's bodies. They have achieved the ultimate form of submission. I know this now. Back then, while we were living that delirium, I didn't know it and I tried to leverage my tension to want to feel good. "My lady's breast" was born like this, between the fear dictated by an unreal situation and the certainty of a strong love that would not leave me, because real people are the ones who don't leave. I continued to compose in those days. I was delighted while I did it, thrilled at the idea of giving voice to the noblest feeling I had in my body, wondering what my Partner would say listening to it. I am a singer. I sing of a possibility that man has of being able to be happy, despite the pitfalls. I believe it. I have believed it for fifteen years, ever since my Partner re-meaned me. "My lady's breast" is the song of thanksgiving of a human being towards the emotional intelligence that made him capable of loving, working and living. "My lady's breast" fits perfectly into the "New Era of Light" artistic movement, since it celebrates love, which is a sine qua non. This tyranny wants us to forget love. The respect due to otherness. Diversity as a source of wealth and growth, to condemn us to a dark future. We need light. You need intelligence. Of clarity. Of sincerity. There is a war going on. They moved it to all of humanity. If we lose, all the people lose. We won't get up again. "My lady's breast" is the anthem of a man who adores his partner, and is an archetype. The love that resignifies everything, the love that heals everything, the love that interprets everything, with intelligence and wisdom. This piece is meant to be an invitation not to get lost. To remain tetragonal. To resist, because better days will come, new Beauty will show us the way. I believe it. I don't want to resign myself to the grossest stupidity that has been nursed by the system for the last thirty years. "My lady's breast" is the song of a revolutionary, an exile, one who has never felt represented by Coca Cola advertising. They are killing the man. His intelligence and depth. His impulses and dreams of him. The aspiration to become beautiful and live healthily with one's fellow humans. I walked away from everything. I don't fit into any category. If it weren't for my partner, I would be completely alone. "My lady's breast" is a constant thanks to the one who made my existence possible, loving me unconditionally. The piece of music has become part of a symphonic poem, which bears the same title: "My lady's breast" and I intend to bring it to life, without abandoning it in some drawer of my study. I have thought a lot, in these years of pandemic. I discovered a state insensitive to people's problems. A master state that demands the genuflection of its servants. We can save ourselves. The New Era of Light awaits us. We can do it. There is no alternative, otherwise they will build a world of automatons and reign forever. "My lady's breast" wants to be an invitation to use emotional intelligence, empathy, respect. They caused us trauma. Legal. Nationalized. Global. People deserve the possibility of self-determination, which has been killed by a totalitarian regime capable of making the lives of those who have not aligned themselves a hell. It's time to rebel. Revolution can also be made between the spaces of a pentagram, I know this and this always heartens me, especially when all seems lost, in a spiral of nonsense that has already made many people fall into the loss of their highest faculties, in pain and mourning. Love, the struggle for one's healthy identity, respect for the other, feeling part of a whole, are part of the progress of humanity, which, otherwise, is lost. A man must have all these resources in order to be truly happy. Otherwise, he is doomed to suffering, which is the real enemy of the Beauty of the human tribe. I have been observing people for many years. Some have achieved psycho-physical well-being, others not. Some have awakened from their slumber. Others are still dormant, but you can't live in hibernation forever. We need an awakening. Many are seeing the lies of the system. They are questioning and documenting. Others will follow the herd. Nothing can be done about it. They are lost. I just wish I could live my life without someone telling me what to do. Capital has been at a standstill for a while, now he has raised his head and demands blind obedience. His grip, in these pandemic years, has been deadly. "My lady's breast" is an act of rebellion on a pentagram, which does not want to resign itself to the idea that the world is going to hell. "My lady's breast" is what I felt at that time, what I see now and what I hope for everyone's future. The cure would be there waiting for those who want it. There would be a way for everyone to feel good together. The will for change can only throb in our veins. We decide which direction the world should take every day, making choices towards goodness. This world isn't doomed yet. It will become so if we all don't care and let the men of darkness act, who are tireless and methodical. We can't give up. "My lady's breast" is the vision of a possible world, in the New Age of Light, to come, waiting for us, like a loving mother. I hope this music can reach the heart of those who are searching for the Truth, since we are made of love.