Ci sono arrivato che erano le 5 passate e l’aria era quella stanca alla fine della giornata, ma anche il momento in cui più gente era attratta dalle poche bancarelle che sotto l’egida di un “Mercato Francese” alla fine vendono da sciarpe a baguettes, da vino ad anelli un po’ di tutto e di più.

Il cibo rappresenta sempre l’attrazione maggiore, con un po’ di ressa davanti al panettiere che propone anche del pane al mais e le “margherite” ai semi, e davanti ai banchi che offrono gli insaccati e i formaggi. I paté non riscuotono gran successo: il prezzo dei vasetti scoraggia un acquisto istintivo e vedo qualche anziano che parlotta scuotendo la testa sui 24 euro della confezione più piccola e sui 44 di quella grande.

Foto? Sempre con la Fuji, per vedere come si comporta la ragazza, e come io possa tarare lo “sviluppo digitale” dopo  ….

French Market 1 French Market 6 French Market 2 French Market 5


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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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