Luca Picariello’s Reviews > A Minor Chorus > Status Update

Sometimes I think there should be no art, no literature, under these conditions, that the street should be our blank page, revolution our magnum opus, love our oeuvre.

[…]It made me wonder: If there isn't time or space to account for or to avow with bewilderment and frustration and joy the emotional fabric of one's life, to assert one's enmeshment in a narrative of humanness that continues to unfold, where does that language go, where does it pile up?
Inside us, as routinized as oxygen? Or is it like dust, a porous, vulnerable, almost unperceivable film covering everything?