Edoardo Segato-Figueroa
Bio
Storyteller, Singer-songwriter. Husband and dog dad.
Author of "Countercurrent", Italian biography of Nikola Tesla.
Sci-fi and Cli-fi novellas. Sciencey essays.
Co-founder of NYADO and producer of Mission to Earth music-film.
Achievements (1)
Stories (13/0)
Great Green, Little Green
Cape Green Few things in this world are truly exceptional. One of them is undoubtedly sunset over an archipelago in the middle of the ocean… and Cabo Verde, off the Green Cape peninsula of Dakar in former Senegal, checked all the boxes. However, only those who flew low-altitude with a heliocopter or a small hydrogen plane get the best view: not quite as low on the horizon as a ship, not as high as a fusion craft. Unfortunately, even in 2114 flying private on anything other than a jetpack was still pretty exclusive, which is why two night workers on the oil mega rig of the Russian corporation SeaBear, had the ideal location to witness the show, sitting in the control room of the highest tower of the platform. Dishearteningly, instead of taking advantage of the free entertainment, their faces were glued to the metavision, watching random news broadcasted live from their home nation.
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa7 months ago in Futurism
Hyperborea
Denial - Norway When Karl steps off the plane, the thin layer of frost under his feet cracks. The weather is eerily merciful, the midnight sun is right above the horizon, but honestly, he has no idea if it’s rising or setting. The smell of pastries, smoked salmon and caramelized onions from the skyport cafes mixes with the metallic rotten cabbage smell of hydrogen and ozone from refilling and sterilizing. His 16 years old daughter stands behind him, fiddling with the copper extensions of her braids as she impatiently waits in line to exit the Boreali hydrojet.
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa7 months ago in Futurism
The Birth of Lemon
_________________________🍋________________________ Upon the loftiest hillock of an enchanted forest, flourished a tree with an aroma so divine that other flora seethed with envy, and creatures from every nook and cranny of the realm paid homage to savour its essence - it exuded the scent of summertide and yore, of ocean's caress and mirthful cheer. Though the sapling was still youthful and had not yet borne its fruit, the redolence had grown so potent that even its leaves were imbued with the fragrance. Day after day the odour intensified, wafting far and wide, compelling even those critters unaccustomed to wanderlust to embark on a sacred pilgrimage. When all had gathered atop the mound, the perfumed shrub gifted the world with its inaugural fruit. It glimmered with a golden brilliance, a hue so ethereal that naught like it had ever been beheld. In a sudden epiphany, the paradise songbird christened it... "lemon", for to him it bore resemblance with another fruit, the melon, and thus he settled on borrowing its idiom and simply unscrambling its letters to baptize the superior specimen. Enthralled by its beauty, the woodland denizens pondered the genesis of this celestial fruit and its radiant chroma. Its heady aroma evoked what they always weened yellow would smell, and upon nibbling fragments of its zest, they reckon that is the taste of yellow itself. They sought to unearth its origin, eager to replicate its creation, and luxuriate in its fragrance and colour, ere the winter came to desiccate all fruits.
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa9 months ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in Melodic Milestone Playlist Challenge
Full Circle PlaylistRunner-Up in Melodic Milestone Playlist Challenge
Io vorrei… non vorrei… ma se vuoi - Il Mio Canto Libero, 1972, Lucio Battisti I was born in the small ancient town of Orbetello in southern Tuscany, Italy. Growing up next to Etruscan ruins, Spanish and Fascist-era architecture and a beautiful and unique brackish lagoon right by the Tyrrhenian waters of the Mediterranean sea, it’s natural that the first song on this playlist was going to be Italian. Being the singer of the family, my dad tried to introduce me to music several times - I've seen old VHS videos of me banging on pots and pans on the floor while Sugar Fornaciari or Michael Jackson played in the back - but nothing really stuck at first, only a love for making noise and for sound in general. It was actually my mom who introduced me to my very first music crush: Lucio Battisti. If you haven't heard of him, do yourself a favour: hit the link above and let your own ears be the judge. If I had to describe him in one sentence I would say that Battisti is as if Serge Gainsbourg and Joan Baez wento to Italy and gave birth to David Bowie. Which is funny because in an interview, the Thin White Duke himself said that Lucio Battisti was one of his favourite singer songwriters in the world. Bowie even translated to English the lyrics of one of Battisti’s most famous and beloved songs, Io Vorrei… Non Vorrei.. Ma se Vuoi… which Mick Ronson released in his 1974 album Slaughter on 10th Avenue. I should mention that I did not choose this song as the overture for my playlist for that reason alone: I don’t have many favourite songs, or movies, or books for that matter, but I can easily say that this song was one of the first tunes ever to make my mind wander. Still to date, the chorus of this song, lyrics included, is one of the best refrains I've ever heard. As a musician and a singer songwriter myself, I owe a lot to Lucio; people also used to call me Battisti because my puffy curly hair looked just like his when I was younger and because I always carrried a guitar with me wherever I went. I still remember the day my mom came home from work, a day like many others in September 1998, her face sad as if she had lost someone close, when she told me: “He died. Lucio died.” Since then she believes that with their intuition artists can sometimes anticipate things that will take place in the future, and she always quotes the lines from Lucio’s song Ma è un canto brasileiro:
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa11 months ago in Beat
Kronos & Kairos
Orismological Onomatopoeic Overture The Vocal Tautogram challenge has been such an incredible inspiration, I felt compelled to share more about the process of creating my poem and how, to my surprise, the journey - as much as the result - transcended the words that were quickly filling the blank pages, flooding into my personal life, with alliterations flowering in the middle of conversations and serendipitous events flowing all around me.
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa12 months ago in FYI
- Top Story - April 2023
Dragonspine
In the beginning, the Valley of Myl was a desert of dust and rocks, devoid of all life, plagued by hostile scorching winds. No flower ever blossomed on our Home-isle, no fruit ever hung from the trees, because there was no water in the ground, nothing to nurture roots and leaves. There was only fire and stone. And the Valley wasn’t yet known as Myl, because Myl was the name of the flying mountain upon which came the first Dragons, our Greatfa’s. One day a shadow appeared in the sky, a speck where the blue grew darker every minute, until it obscured the Star and the Eyes of the Ancestors opened up as if it was already dreamtime. The shadow was a piece of the Isle of the mighty Dragons, far beyond the void whence they came. They rode upon it, their wings of lightning woven into a thick web, helping them defeat the Pull of the Underworld. Their scales moved across their skin and down their tails like gears of a large machine. Beneath it, the Greatfa’s harbored seeds, protected like precious embryos by metal and pure cold Flamelight. Their crystal voices resounded like bells in a vast cave as they sang a poignant song that shook the lands below and blew away the fire. They were singing because they carried a gift. A gift of life.
By Edoardo Segato-Figueroa2 years ago in Fiction
