August 27, 2009


... and then, I couldn't stop thinking about a picture I had done a couple of years ago that was aimed to show the feeling of belonging and tenderness that sometimes if we are lucky enough, can experience.

... to get the feeling of hearing the rhythm of the one who we love, breathing and see the beautiful expression of a face when sleeping peacefully in our arms and contemplate the closed eyelids slightly slightly moving, seeing hopefully, wonderful landscapes, multiple shades of colours, moonbeams touching the surface of the water or the first rays of light on a cold morning day

... feeling the warmth that's coming from two embraced naked bodies and all your senses getting fulfilled with a perfect connection that hardly can be expressed neither in words or shapes ... you see your self, shivering of pleasure and you wish that you were a poet to be able to translate into words what you just have felt.

[picture: the Cullbergsballet dancing a piece of "position of elsewhere" 22/8/09 at Vitabergsparken in Stockholm]

August 7, 2009

a casa

I'm listening the tones of an enchanted aria of Puccini's 'Madama Butterfly' and not because of the words (which are really sad) but because of the beauty of the italian language that I'm thinking of my last stay in Rome.

I have been editing the pictures I captured there and trying to feel again the pulse of the city. The colors of the earth and the nature that come together in an explosion of shades that make you feel alive and inexplicable glad. A joy of being alive that I seldom manage to find somewhere else and less, to feel it in my self.

I was lucky to be placed at Trastevere, between the small streets, fountains, churches, restaurants, bars and people! This is the key to understand why you get those feelings: people. They are sitting by a bar, enjoying a coffee, a 'pasta', food and each other and that's the secret.

Pictures and pictures of some of the places I was to,
and then a simple one that shows just a door.
an old one, quite anonymous, Via del Moro 41-42 in Trastevere,
the entrance to the house i stayed in when I was in Rome
—a casa (at home)