26/09/2026 Teatro di vinci - uomini e topi - Giardini dell'arte; 18/10/2026 Teatro PESAro - The elephant man - Giardini dell'arte

INDIVIDUAL SONG

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DAMN THIS MEMORY!

I put it down right here,
I swear, I put it down right here!
Pixies and leprechauns
Keep moving all my things around;
They hide away my odds and ends,
And nothing can be found.
And those little fairie -

The wretches! - blow into my face
A cloud of magic dream-dust,
Till every room becomes a maze
And I misplace myself.
Every morning, you know,
Always the same old story:
I wander barefoot to the bathroom
And splash some water on my face;
I switch my memory back on,
Then look down at my feet, my slippers?
Where they’ve gone, I couldn’t say!
I put it down right here,
I swear, I put it down right here!
Pixies and leprechauns
Keep moving all my things around;
They hide away my odds and ends,
And nothing can be found.
And those little fairies -
The wretches! - blow into my face
A cloud of magic dream-dust,
Till every room becomes a maze
And I misplace myself.
I go into the kitchen,
And I know I had a reason;
I came in here on purpose,
Not by chance or indecision.
My aim was crystal-clear before;
I count my steps and open up the fridge.
But what I came here for, I don’t know.
Something doesn’t add up in my head,
Or has the whole world shifted round instead?
All I know is doubt now batters at my door:
Who am I?
What do I want?
What am I searching for?
The peace I long for
Isn’t here anymore!
I put it down right here,
I swear, I put it down right here!
Pixies and leprechauns
Keep moving all my things around;
They hide away my odds and ends,
And nothing can be found.
And those little fairies -
The wretches! - blow into my face
A cloud of magic dream-dust,
Till every room becomes a maze
And I misplace myself.
I put it down right here,
I swear, I put it down right here!
Pixies and leprechauns
Keep moving all my things around;
They hide away my odds and ends,
And nothing can be found.
And those little fairies -
The wretches - blow into my face
A cloud of magic dream-dust,
Till every room becomes a maze
And I misplace myself.

Memory does not always disappear: sometimes it hides.

Damn This Memory! is a playful and delicate kind of bonus track, fashioned as a miniature 1950s cabaret number. Its tone is light, almost like a variety-show sketch: pixies, leprechauns and mischievous little fairies become the imaginary culprits behind vanished objects, missing slippers and rooms entered with no recollection of why.

Behind the smile, however, a fragile and profoundly human theme begins to emerge: memory starting to falter, thought stumbling, everyday life suddenly filling with small absences. The drama of incipient dementia becomes a bittersweet theatrical turn in which fear is not denied, but softened by imagination.

The protagonist searches, questions himself, loses his temper and laughs at himself. And in that ceaseless “I put it down right here” lies all the tenderness of someone trying to hold the world together with words, even as the world begins to move things of its own accord.

Light only in appearance, Damn This Memory! brings the journey to a close with a fragile smile: the smile of someone who knows that forgetting can be frightening, but also knows that irony, for as long as it remains, is a small form of resistance.

THE MOON IN THE WELL

I gaze into my well,
But the moon is not there.
Deep in the heart of the well,
My own moon is not there.
You took it, you,
You carried it away.
So innocent,
I dreamed in blue.
Nothing but bruises,
Tears mixed with brine;
No tender arms around me
To melt this heart of mine.
Words rough as gravel,
That wound me every time;
But this time I know
I will heal in time.
I followed you into the well,
Lost within your eyes;
Inside your restless sea,
My moon was lost to me.
Again, it was you,
You swept me far away.
So foolish I,
Still dreaming in blue.
Nothing but bruises,
Tears mixed with brine;
No tender arms around me
To melt this heart of mine.
Words rough as gravel,
That wound me every time;
But this time I know,
I, I, I will heal in time.
I gaze into my well,
Where can my moon now be?
I left you there inside the well;
That moon, that moon is gone from me.
It was always you,
You cast it all away.
And now alone,
I follow the blue.
I follow the blue.
I search for the moon in the well.
I search for the moon in the well.
I search for the moon in the well.

The Moon in the Well tells a story born of a great illusion: the promise of a love capable of colouring the future blue.

But that dream slowly turns into a prison made of wounding words, loneliness, and physical and emotional violence.

The lost moon becomes the symbol of a woman deprived of her own light, who nevertheless finds the strength to break the bond, to heal, and to pursue her blue once more.

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