Dobre utro, kack dyla?” [Russo], “Cheers, how are you doing today?” [Brit-English], “Jamhbou, mauhmbo!” [Swahili], “Hey mate, how r ya” [Oz-English], “Salhamata” [Burma-Thai]. Stamani ho avuto uno sfoggio linguistico nella prima ora di interazione col mondo che sembravo un ambasciatore alle United Nations. Ho una giornata che definire “lunga” è come considerare che un’era geologica duri un long-weekend.

Sveglia alle 4:30am, risultato dell’essermi addormentato ieri sera alle 10, un po’ di lavoro, check-out, raggiungo l’ufficio (si, è domenica mattina ma qui si lavora e ho una bella giornata complessa) e mi preparo per una serie di eventi che terminerà col posizionare le mie chiappe stanotte su un Airbus 340 che mi scarrozzerà per 15 ore a coprire le quasi 8,000 miglia di distanza tra Abu Dhabi e Sydney.

Si, confermo, tra una trentina d’ore abbraccio la Camillona! Io felice!

Visto che avrò abbastanza tempo per intrattenervi su diverse decine di minchiate durante le ore di volo (diretto, sic), oggi la pianto qui subito, regalandovi però due immagini: ovvio di dove siano. Scattate a Giugno dell’anno scorso.


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It has been more than fifty years since I began traveling across the world — and the seven seas — for work or for pleasure, always with a Leica M camera close at hand. The camera has never been an accessory; it has been a constant companion, a way of observing, remembering, and making sense of the places and people I encountered along the way. I started keeping this kind of journal some time ago, not as a diary in the traditional sense, but as a space where images and words could meet. This is not a publication driven by schedules or algorithms. At times I disappear for long stretches; then, inevitably, I return with semi-regular updates. Publishing, for me, is a mirror of my state of mind and emotions. It follows my rhythm, not the other way around. You have to take it exactly as it comes. Every photograph you see here is mine. They are fragments of a life spent moving, looking, and waiting for moments to reveal themselves — often quietly, sometimes unexpectedly. This blog is not about destinations, but about presence. About what remains when the journey slows down and the shutter finally clicks.

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