Mi è venuta in mente una canzone mentre, ancora una volta, sono andato a cercare tra Deira e Al Shindagha uno dei pochi ambienti che ritengo “vero” nel Paese dei Castelli di Sabbia. Ho sentito la voce, la chitarra, la genialità di Fabrizio De Andrè, nel brano che chiude Crêuza de mä, parlando di viaggiatori, di naviganti, di marinai che lasciano le proprie donne e il molo di Genova.

D’ä mæ riva, sulu u teu mandillu ciaèu
d’ä mæ riva, ‘nta mæ vitta
u teu fatturisu amàu ‘nta mæ vitta

“Capitano, saddiki, mi accetti a bordo per scattare qualche immagine?” ….

creek 1 creek 9 creek 4


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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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