“All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.”
(The seven pillars of wisdom, Thomas Edward Lawrence)
T.E.L. is a device for utopian communications. Two actors, placed in two different places, distant in space, maybe also in time, passionately leaning out towards the same indomitable ghost. Two different audiences, simultaneous witnesses of their possible-impossible dialogue, barely aware of their reciprocal presence.
If you ride an uncertain track through the desert, any desert, you will certainly feel a kind of strange weariness, a desire to stop: after a few minutes of solitude in that place, you will seem to hear a soft sound, and you will start to ask yourself: a sound or a voice? From whom or what? How to describe it? Each sound, animal, wind, shot, voice, throat, known and unknown language will tell that somewhere else, surely not where you were stopping, something is happening, in an absolutely not discontinuous manner, with an apparently rhythmic scansion. Thus your stop will become alarmed, a part of that story of revolts and deserts, an accomplice to decisions, astonishment, horror, because the distance you listen to will be your own personal mirage, and you won’t be able to stop listening: that noble and wretched sound refers to you.