mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix

Iκαρος

flying to liberty
to freedom 
pointing to high 
believing on a dream…

falling into the sea

ignoring the danger

"…and in the early morning light 
after a silent peaceful night
you took my heart away and 
I grieve in my dreams 
I can see you 
I can tell you how 
I feel in my dreams 
I can hold you 
and it feels so real… "

[lyrics: Anathema]

a foggy guess

…the fog erased the landscape

the light was just pale reflexions on the clouds, 

brightening slightly the buildings and the leafless trees. 

In a blur you could guess the tower of a church 

as ghostly arrow pointing the sky.

white dust

suddenly everything became shadowy, 
a blurry white dust covered the roofs and the trees 
and the landscape went brighter, 
the shadows disappeared leaving a fog 
that covered the city and the horizon.

lacrimosa

Lacrimosa
Lacrimosa dies illa
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.

Huic ergo parce, Deus
Pie Jesu Domine
Dona eis requiem, 

Amen.

golden light

light and leaves have almost disappeared 

the naked twigs shiver under the north wind

the whole landscape becomes a scream 

the light is leaving us

but not before saying farewell in golden clothes…

shades of light

changes of light and weather
change the mood under the short autumn day light moments

traces of summer

the day is gray,
the autumn has been blowing in for a while
carrying drops and colored leaves,

summer is gone
the trees are already preparing themselves
for the waiting season

raindrops and the imminent cold
had made the colors ran down
as tears
over the face of summer
over an evanescent picture
of clare calypso-waters

summer is gone...

destiny

churches everywhere,

hundred of crosses,  

different interpretations of Christ.

a suffering man, 

an agonized man, 

a bleeding man,

crucified, 

starved, 

tired, 

overwhelmed.

a male body is emerging off the bronze door, 

he seems like being created or vanishing, 

melting back in the metal, 

floating and at the same time, 

trapped in a thick and heavy magma

a cross is embossed  on his chest.

his body hasn't neither feet nor hands

he is not crucified 

he has a cross as a stigma deep carved on him,

soaring and dividing his chest

sealing, marking, wounding him

and leaving his body for ever 

as a reminder, a gesture of passion.

(pictures: the door of the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and the Martyrs
in Rome, created by Igor Mitoraj in 2006)

reminder

Rome was dumped and hot that summer afternoon.
I decided anyway to go to the famous graveyard called "Cimitero del Verano" and take some pictures of the sculptures that symbolized dead and sorrow and the most frightened feeling of the human race,
the unknown.

Strong shadows fall almost as sharp knives creating a landscape  that reminded me nightmares from my childhood when the sense of dead seemed to be most remote but always culturally present.

Now,
confronting my self with these images at my age resulted in another kind of feeling,
it becomes most present,
something that it would happen not to far away.

I wasn't afraid
but sadness, heaviness and displeasure invaded me 
and I felt tired.

(the pictures where taken at Cimitero del Verano, Rome, with an iPhone)