There are stages of this perennial circumnavigation we call life, in which you must stop in order to start again, a mental storage essential to devise new routes and may be new crews. I do not know if the same thing happens to you but these are the stages where I love to put hand to the album of memories. It helps me to understand who I am, what I did and consequently where I’m going, without being clouded by the mists of track adjustments of the daily surfing.
The pages run fast like the waves in the wind, until abruptly fingers veer on a photo in particular. The colors are less intense than once and with less defined contours. The image in my memory is that age where things while being still very current, begin to betray their years by the details: on one hand my still Performer with its plastic shelf and unaware of the meaning of the Acronym GBS and on the other me, who punched the bottom of a Illy coffee tin to make my first Minion Method, with a mixture of amusement and curiosity that can only have a child when he plays around a fire.
Yet I remember like it was yesterday the emotions, the surprise in crossing the Pillars of Hercules to a new world of which I did not suspect the existence, the obstinate determination with which I wanted to explore its boundaries, conscious to embarking on a journey that I knew would last long.
Enveloping fragrance. Exuberant elegance. Refined voluptuousness. I wanted this to be my barbecue to my eyes and to my taste. From those early explorations I have added many notches on my oars: the first posts, the first demonstrations, the first classes, the first public events. All steps that have proven critical to building my personal Log Book. Rereading it now I realize what has proved a journey within a journey, a silent evolutionary path that not even I knew it, has shifted the focus from my 2,550 square centimeters grill to streets and gardens in which this could be moved to.
That picture, along with all those that have followed, indicated a direction in which to search and the simple navigation, like a light of a lighthouse from the White Cliffs of Google makes it very clear what has always been evident: what I have in mind does not exist, I have the opportunity to offer something new, to be able to express through the embers something about me to the others.
Now sailing is sweet to me on this sea. Carefree dedication, expert testing, exciting professionalism. This want it to be my barbecue. A hangout for anyone willing to enter a port in which you know you can find what you look for and what you do not expect, a place in which to share your passions and aspirations, where to find and discover, in the company of those who know how to be your friend and adviser, a bartender of barbecue indeed, a Barktender.
We just off the moorings and we set sails on, the wind is propitious. It ‘s time to start again on a new adventure.
