Un’altra alluvione. Altre vite perdute, altri disastri. Mi chiedo come non si riesca, tutti noi assieme, a mettere in sicurezza una volta per tutte la Val Bisagno e i suoi affluenti: lo so, sono stati anni di edilizia di merda, di programmazione idrogeologica criminale e di errori tecnici, ma, cazzo, rimbocchiamoci le mani prima del prossimo disastro e facciamo vedere che si può cambiare ….

pioggia


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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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