When the leaves take on the colours of autumn

Short trip among the golden, yellow, orange and brown nuance of the larches in the magic Occitan land: Val Maira (Cottian Alps), Italy.

 

Great weekend by B&B Lou Bià, Val Maira, CN Italy

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Adverse reactions

The Circus is visiting the suburbs:

a red and white stripe tent stands still,

the wide open mouth of a child.

 

There’s a bit of poetry around;

when the soul gets out of the inside, it happens sometimes,

once in a while.

 

Under the same off-white light

someone is running away, not far from here

others are having such a fun.

Milan, Italy 2014
Milan, Italy 2014

#14

 

How many viewers?

A windy morning, a piece of paper

is fluttering about

I’ll catch it.

 

Lying on the love altar,

I offer myself to the enchantment of pain

poor, fated, unheard.

 

So Fellinian.. baroque enough to let

any adverb changing the whole: I’ll go for happily,

somewhere before lying or offer, or later, to frustrate the triad.

 

Some kind of failure drove him crazy, I guess.

A movie, a flop, the eleventh line:

I’m an awful lover, but still love better than you.

God, take the voice away of him. The plot is weak.

 

The Maestro had a clear base of judgment: boredom.

Well, keep that feeling for yourself!  He would have shouted.

As far as I’m concerned,

I’ll hold you off!

 

Zero viewers.

Vertical wood, Milan - Italy
“Vertical wood”, (building project) Milan – Italy

# 12

Old style beach resorts

Italy, Adriatic Sea – beach resorts and old bathing establishment.

Shots by me

Just besides the famous and well-equipped beach resorts of Romagna, there’s an area that was once a cheap public holiday destination for children. This kind of holiday was government-funded and children were sent here for 1 or 2 months a year, depending on the economic conditions of their families. Unofficially it was known as “colony”. I also spent a couple of summers here, when I was 7, maybe 8. I keep a few tolerable memories of me playing on the beach, a certain chaos, my small white cap with ties, the labels with my name on stitched in each piece of clothing, the smell of the soup at midday, the sand in the flip-flops…

Now, it’s mostly in disuse, but some establishments have been renovated and keep on living under a religious management.

Batik

This shadowy and labyrinthine town has swallowed the entire human consortium, I said.

It sounds like a chorus spinning around a unique emotional state. Voices and cries overfilling the streets, rolling  down at dawn and returning upstream at twilight

with a load of bitterness, pain

and courage.

 

A few days after the new dock opening ceremony, a large ship entered and two girls got off.

I noticed them because I’ve been trafficking with numbers, mostly

strings of two units at a time that I combine, pile up or split in grids to contrast their power,

(with the automorphic numbers, I almost touched the abstraction)

Then, because I feel lonely in this life made of non-empty sets.

 

They looked good: wide eyes, open mouths, tiny bodies and a nicety at any cost that made it all so genuine and fresh. Of that day, that signed the apex of my communication skill to the human gender, I keep a photo.  My nose is asymmetric. Look.

I never realized that.

I can’t stop thinking of it.

 

I’m a grown-up – even now -, bent on my numbers and framed by the artificial light, like a chorister in an orthodox church, a goldsmith in his father workshop or an alchemist, carefully stirring the Leonardo’s bistre.

My lovers have hung their clothes here and there. They swing spontaneously, nodding at me, dissenting at me, making fun of me, of my doggedly returning to these

refuge assets.

In the fog (waiting for Springtime) - Apennines (Italy)
Low clouds (waiting for Springtime) – Apennines (Italy)

# 9