Questa settimana è talmente in salita che scivolo anche se ho ramponi, chiodi, corda, picozza, e bestemmie a tentare di sostenermi in una serie di pesi impegni. Non mi scivola via il sorriso, ma qualche grugnito lo emetto e anche Beria gira alla larga: solo una foto oggi, e non cerco intercessioni divine, credetemi, ma solo la via per uscirne

genova san matteo


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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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