Antartide: Perdersi e ritrovarsi alla fine del mondo

It is clear now: I am under the spell of the continent at the end of the world. This is the only place in which I had the sensation of getting completely lost in a landscape of the soul, where vision and sentiment do not clash one with the other. In front of me still glide the clearness of the water, the blue, disquieting shadows of the icebergs, the surreal shape of the white solitude, the performances made of colors and lights that some inscrutable architect of the nature has set up for us. I have always considered the landscape as an interior matter, a dimension of the spirit, often connected with childhood, marked by the emerging of a memory. I am sure that this is the reason why when we try, in the adulthood, to find again in a real landscape some memory of the past, we undergo an unavoidable frustration. In Antarctica, Nature takes its time back for herself and let it flow as she likes: slowly but relentlessly, marked only by the shapes that create and recreate the landscapes. Soon I will have to surrender again to a world that is, in the end, as all of us wanted it. But Antarctica, I know, will keep living inside me.