Everyone has their own song to remember Kenya, Africa.
A song that is often interior, evocative.
Nostalgic, melancholic, imaginative, painful.
Cheerful, pessimistic, hopeful, desperate, peaceful, celebratory.
A song that it is easier to express through an image, a stolen photograph, the thought of another person who, like us, is pining away and needs to express it.
So it happens that in the smile of a child there are children from all over Kenya, in a dawn in front of the Indian Ocean there are all the beaches of its coast and a roaring lion becomes the spokesman of its immense, fantastic Kingdom.
In the same way as Karen Blixen, those who must separate themselves, even temporarily, from this country wonder if Africa will remember her singing. Whether in the cradle of humanity will remain a trace of its passage or whether it will all be relegated to the world of memories and the hope of being able to return soon.
The answer, as recalled by a Poet who knows little about this Continent but has deeply investigated man and his calls, blows in the wind.
So, in this period of dark clouds and uncertainties, I decided to dedicate a daily "strip" to the new moon lying on the back of the giraffe, to the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers and to a thousand other visions, moments, places, people and situations that must not be forgotten and deserve to be told as if they were songs, because they feed one of the most precious goods that nobody can manipulate yet: the dream.
Because as another passionate artist, Mercedes Sosa, used to say: "If the singer is silent, life goes silent. Because life, life itself is all a song".