Psychic spies from China, Try to steal your mind’s elation
Little girls from Sweden, Dream of silver screen quotations
And if you want these kind of dreams, It’s Californication

Si, si impone un “rewind“, lo so, altrimenti mi si perde. Cominciamo dal “quasi-fondo”. Ho aperto la porta che dal carruggio a due passi dal Palazzo del Doge ti collega con un universo parallelo e mi ha accolto Mangiafuoco chiedendomi “Come posso farti felice?“.  “Sono già felice, potresti però darmi da bere un bicchiere di pozione: devo fotografare e scrivere e sono in cerca di ispirazione come le olive in un martini” gli ho risposto.

It’s the edge of the world, and all of western civilization
The sun may rise in the East, At least it settles in the final location
It’s understood that Hollywood, sells Californication
Pay your surgeon very well, To break the spell of ageing,
Celebrity skin is this your chin, Or is that war you’re waging

Voglio stare un anno in California” dice la compagna di panca con cui condivido una parte del tavolo in legno sul quale posiziono i gomiti tentando di scattare un’immagine con un tempo di esposizione simile a un’era geologica. Sta discutendo con la sua amica su viaggi e sulla vita e non riesco a farmi mezzo kilo di cazzi miei: stanno sognando di cambiare, almeno temporaneamente.

First born unicorn, Hardcore soft porn. Dream of Californication, Dream of Californication

“Mi fate venire in mente la strana voce di Anthony Kiedis, e la chitarra assurda di John Frusciante” ho detto loro, “che nel 1999 hanno registrato un gran bel brano, Californication”. Mi hanno guardato come un plantigrado estinto nel Cretaceo: pensavo che, per le mie passioni musicali, i Red Hot Chili Peppers rappresentassero qualcosa di attuale a parte i loro problemi a base di eroina, ma mi son sbagliato.

Marry me girl be my ferry to the world, Be my very own constellation
A teenage bride with a baby inside, Getting high on information
And buy me a star on the boulevard, It’s Californication
Space may be the final frontier, But it’s made in a Hollywood basement
Cobain can you hear the Spears, Singing songs off station to station
And Alderaan’s not far away, It’s Californication

“Hanno cantato i lati oscuri dei lustrini Hollywoodiani, l’industria del porno, il maniacale ricorso alla chirurgia estetica, il suicidio di Cobain, i Beach Boyes, Star Treck e la saga Star Wars. Hanno suonato la disperazione, e John per l’occasione ha usato una chitarra che è una vera rarità, una Gretsch White Falcon del 1954, che dal 1967 non esiste più se non in pochissimi esemplari.”

Born and raised by those who praise, Control of population
Everybody’s been there, And I don’t mean on vacation
First born unicorn, Hard core soft porn

Dream of Californication, Dream of Californication
Dream of Californication, Dream of Californication
Destruction leads to a very rough road, But it also breeds creation
And earthquakes are to a girl’s guitar, They’re just another good vibration
And tidal waves couldn’t save the world, From Californication

Pay your surgeon very well, To break the spell of aging
Sicker than the rest, there is no test, But this is what you’re craving
First born unicorn, Hardcore soft porn
Dream of Californication, Dream of Californication
Dream of Californication, Dream of Californication

 “Voglio solo essere felice, voglio andare in California, per un anno“, mi dice. Le sorrido e finalmente riesco a scattare un’immagine dopo averci provato un paio di volte …

genova 23jul14


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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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