Casa Robino

"I usually don't pick up hitchhikers. But you don't look like the usual hippie... "

The 40-something man opens the door of the fancy car he drives to make an impression on his clients.
I'm in. comfortably sitting in the rear. with my shoulders finally relying on something smoother than a rock.

It was fun to sleep for few days in a tent under zero degrees and winking stars fighting to be brighter than the orange moon. Listening to the birds talking to each other the whole night.

The Berlin crowd made cardboard film gear 2 weeks ago and interviewed peeing people all over the Roskilde Festival with it. Now I'm glad to present the video of what happened that is a prove of a self organised and radically spontanious art project. We can make things!!!!

Sooner that I could realize, the road caught us, flexible and free like a cat.
Its yellow eyes blinking and silently smiling followed us, meanwhile we where following the flow of the events.

I can find you in the Red Hook skylines,
in the subway of Bedford Ave,
in the roads near MoMa,
in the street art and in the art of the streets,
in the Chinatown I haven't see,
in the bed of the Snoopy Gang,
in the eyes of people I meet because of you.

You are here, and Casa teaches.
I remember to myself what I was there.
Like a cloud, like a cloud I get my shape.

I take you around my nest,
like birds we laugh and move,
with control of the not-control,
the magic awareness of thoughtless minds guides us.

The madness of the crazy streets
blasts us and make us sick

Shaun and I arrived this morning at 6 am in Odesa. 18 beautiful people gave us a ride. We have been offered seats, lunches, gifts, vodka, beer but most importantly we have been offered hospitalitly and love. It took us 6 days (included one in which we were just waiting for good intentions of someone else and the road was not than nice to make us meet together).

They thaught us how to make bread, and just when we were ready to do our own pasta madre tripping performance live with an audience, they had to leave again, just before the real fun was starting. "Coitus interruptus" they called it.

We were at Damoclash, an Amsterdam based free culture festival (with pizza's for 7 euro) and we were about to give away 15 kilo of bread, but who was gonna make all that bread?

Over the last two weeks I ended up meeting people with fairly different backgrounds.
"Louis" from Kurdistan, living in the parallel universe just next wall from casa, hosted our family last Thursday. To celebrate the event, we ate wine leaves stuffed with rice and meat, almost breaking the guideline number one of the casa (no death animals). I say almost because the few food left has been saved over the balcony and eaten there the next day.

Birthday's. Days you are supposed to bring presents and presence isn't enough. It was Giorgio's birthday yesterday but it was Sunday - shopping for a present wasn't possible. But why would we?