INCIPIT
What is easier than traveling today?
Everything is online, in motion: life itself is being in motion. Travel is no longer the privilege of a few and its words seem to impose themselves as global, world slogans. Everywhere, even in political programs, there is talk of welcome, of hospitality.
And yet, within the apparent ease of travel, much seems compromised: travel often resembles a simple movement or a consumption's dislocation. It also seems to willingly speak the unique, and insecure, language of exchange and money.
It is therefore not surprising that other words - and this raises suspicion - are said less: the other and the detachment from oneself, the uniqueness and fragility of lives, responsibility. Freedom again.
Taken from 'Filosofia del viaggio', by F. Riva, Città Aperta, 2005
O Captain! My Captain!
Our fearful trip is done;
the ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
the port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
while follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
but O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
where on the deck my Captain lies,
fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills;
for you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding;
for you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
you've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
my father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
the ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
from fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I with mournful tread
walk the deck my Captain lies,
fallen cold and dead.
by Walt Whitman, 1865
