no guard rails
the island of giglio off the western coast of tuscany is a combination of salamander tails, fish eggs, moth larvae. 10,000 years ago a volcano was formed at the top of the island as a shooting star decided to end its heavenly journey by crashing through the pull of the northern lights magnetic field and laying its weary head on the cold hardened rock known as eggplant pasta prima vera. the star had a concept of demise and finality that was described by the 13th century astronomer, parmigini salami,
as simply 8.
the shooting star had a view of the world that was flat, still begged of beginning, ended of ending.
the hardened rock awoke, full of excitment. it hardened, then softened and hardened, over and over, until a friction of heat was formed on the aura of its tender skin, at the tip of its throbbing head. the heat awakened, ignited the curiostiy of the volcano and stirred its ancient spirit. the volcano spoke, opened its mouth, poured forth its offering, announcing to any who were within earshot, "399 if you are home please pick up, if not, no worries, the show starts soon, the present meets the past".