Saturday, September 12, 2009

words for a friend

When I was 18 years old I saw Manhattan, the Woody Allen film. I was in the cinema with a very close friend and when the movie ended we said, “extraordinary”, ‘excellent”, and blah blah blah. Today I can say I didn’t understand anything, neither did my friend. But we found something special in the movie, the atmosphere… the contrast between black and white. The movie had a smell, really. In that time we were reading Henry Miller. My friend always talked about him. And thanks to my friend I really got to know Miller. ¨We have to go to New York,¨ we said when we were younger. My friend never wrote a line, he studied music, he went to Brazil three years later and with time became one of the most important percussionists in Argentina and Brazil and, in some instruments like berimbau, he was the best in the world. Well, my friend was Ramiro Musotto and he died yesterday. I want to dedicate these words to him.

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