Monday, 8 April 2013

Breakfast in America

"An empty sack cannot stand upright"
I was taught this saying as if it were doctrine, both home and school. I repeated it, without thinking about it too much, without really thinking about the meaning of the words.

To understand their meanings, I had to wait for some years: late for school, or better afraid of being late for school, I skipped breakfast and I dropped just like, well, an empty sack.

Since then, no matter what happens, it doesn't matter how late I might turn out to end, breakfast is a must. Most of the time, my breakfast last less than 2 minutes: it's important, it's vital and necessary, but 5 out 7 I don't give it the proper credit and value it deserves.

But then the weekend arrives and everything changes: minutes are important, they seem to expand and acts have meaning.
So I take out the Neapolitan coffee pot and start my coffee: it takes longer than with a moka, but who's in a hurry?

I'm not.
So, while the coffee brews slowly, I take the turntable out and put some music on.

Breakfast in...

I bought this vinyl at Amoeba, in San Francisco.
When I saw it, I knew I had to buy it. Just the day before I woke up with "Goodbye stranger" in the head and then, 24 hours later, there they were, the Supertramp.

"Breakfast in America" takes me back to lazy Sunday morning, my mum humming in the kitchen, the sun filtering in, the feeling of spring at my doorstep.
It makes me smile because of the memory, because of the tune, because of this feeling this record gives me every time: put my Converse on, sunglasses on top of my head and out! Feeling the pull to go out wander and wonder.

And so I did, after my slow breakfast, of course.

"Feel no sorrow, feel no shame, come tomorrow feel no pain"

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