I was on a boat and I went “to America”.

A cargo liner because that was the least expensive.

And there I had decided to go to meet Edgar Varèse.

It was winter, the life was punctuated by the rhythm of the storms, the travel was to last something like three weeks while passing by Cuba and Florida.

I composed short pieces for piano while letting me go to the time.

Some were calm, certain were agitated, others were balanced.

Thus, in the middle of the oceans, I was aware for the first time of an almost conscious relation between an outside, a reality in motion and an interior in agitation.