A volte cerchi qualcosa per tutto il giorno. Pensi che solo con la luce puoi trovare, rovistare tra le tue cose con successo. Poi. Poi arriva la notte e sei ancora lì che cerchi, al buio, con gli occhi stanchi, le dita che non si attivano e credi che non otterrai un buon risultato. Sbagli. Perchè forse non ti è chiaro, ma qualcosa c'è, anche se lo vedi a fatica.
Di notte qualcosa arriva sempre, e con una chiarezza a volte disarmante, tanto da illuminare tutto. Tutto, anche te stesso.

Bastian Smith

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN: Something in the night

I'm riding down Kingsley,
figuring I'll get a drink
Turn the radio up loud,
so I don't have to think,
I take her to the floor,
looking for a moment when the world seems right,
And I tear into the guts,
of something in the night.

You're born with nothing,
and better off that way,
Soon as you've got something they send
someone to try and take it away,
You can ride this road 'till dawn,
without another human being in sight,
Just kids wasted on
something in the night.

Nothing is forgotten or forgiven,
when it's your last time around,
I got stuff running 'round my head
That I just can't live down.

When we found the things we loved,
They were crushed and dying in the dirt.
We tried to pick up the pieces,
And get away without getting hurt,
But they caught us at the state line,
And burned our cars in one last fight,
And left us running burned and blind,
Chasing something in the night.

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