A mala… que danos poderá causar a ausência de uma mala que continha todos os instrumentos de percussão, cajon, afinador, suporte de harmónica e luvas para o frio? Todos.
Bem, então há que ser alquimista e tornar o interior de uma mala no seu exterior. Quando retiro a guitarra de dentro de uma mala e a tampa se cerra, tenho a certeza de ficar sempre um som aprisionado dentro dessa caixa. Então há que ser um bom anfitrião para esse silêncio que de fora se não ouve e amplificá-lo; após umas boas horas em Mulhouse, saltando de loja em loja de música fomos adquirindo os instrumentos que hoje vieram convidar esse prisioneiro – somos reinvenção com um dos sets de percussão mais estranhos de que me recordo – mas as pessoas que aqui vieram não arredaram pé até ao final desta dança. Agora que nos afastamos ouço-os trautear de passo lento sobre os campos que nos receberam.
The suitcase - From Basel Mulhouse one takes about 20 minutes; the map says that we move further away from the sea: it is a journey that takes us through the Switzerland through long green fields inhabited by houses whose roof falls down on a winding almost to the ground, cutting the white mountains that can be seen in the distance. By each tunnel that we leave behind, the thermometer also begins a walk that ends at our feet. But today is not yet a snow day; the clouds have not unveiled their secrets here - and how we tried, roaming through the streets of Basel, eager to find the stairs that would take us near the mothers of the snow. After a few wrong roads, we found the gateway to such a venture, the church of Elisabethen: we climbed the steep steps between walls narrower than the difference of our body to the stones or the feet to the stairs. Upon reaching the top, the air is so diverse that we think we have found a chest larger than nature has offered us. There, we waited in silence so the clouds could hear the silent prayer of one who knows the futility of an inferior request or a less unfair one. Guessing the certain absence of a Moses basket for the words that lean to the lips but prevent themselves to move any further, we descended the tower as fast as the vertigo of the circles traveled to the exit door. We continue to Friborg, to meet Cristelle and the first Swiss stage, while the green fields spread like a blanket over hundreds of seasons. The suitcase ... what kind of damages may bring the absence of a suitcase that contained all the instruments of percussion, cajon, tuner and support for the harp and gloves for the cold? All kind. Well, then one needs to be an alchemist and turn the inside of a bag on the outside. When I remove a guitar from a suitcase and the lid has been shut, I am sure that a sound remains trapped in that box. So, one should be a good host for this silence that is not to be heard and amplify it. After a few good hours in Mulhouse, going from music store to music store, we acquired the tools that have now come to invite that prisoner - we are a reinvention with one of the strangest percussion sets I remember - but the people who came here didn’t budge until the end of this dance. Now, as we walk away, I hear them humming on a slow pace over the fields that have received us. Joao Rui