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The Writer, loneliness, Barbara and purity

"Last October, on the occasion of the initiatives that celebrate the two hundredth anniversary of the Park of Monza, won the Rottapharm to the big city Brianza installation "Writer" by Giancarlo Blacks. The massive work composed of a chair height of 10 meters and a high table 7.50 and 11 meters wide, made of wood and steel with a total weight of over 4 tons, was placed permanently in the heart of the park itself. "

" A deeper meaning to the writer links the locations chosen. The work, as explained by the Blacks, "celebrates the solitude of the writer, symbolizing the creative process of writing, which" forces "in total isolation from the outside world. The writer, estranged from the reality that surrounds him, remains alone at the table on which he works. Placing The Writer in the open spaces of city parks, cross the boundaries between inner and outer world, between open and closed locations. The work undo the restrictions imposed from display, and fits seamlessly in place of daily visits, establishing a deep bond with nature. "

" The writer is always alone. Only with his writing, his thoughts, his experience, his memories, his hopes. Hope to be read, you judge someone, including you, help you understand what you mean with your writing. A virtuous circle from time to time, vicious, perverse, exhilarating, intriguing, mysterious, who takes you by the throat, with white sheet on the desk in front of the keyboard, your fingers feel thrilled that they want to communicate what they think, what do you mean, but perhaps not as you know, to pretend to do so then understand who you read, if anyone will flow your words. Yet you continue to write. And you're alone at that table. Now you can find it there in the park, the sun or the fog, night or day. And 'he means the writer. The chair in front of the giant table. Can not you see, but feel his presence. Maybe it's you who sit on that chair. You write that. You who read. In the park, at Monza. "

I quote from an article by Galloway read in full here:

http://guide.supereva.com/bibliofilia/interventi/2005/11/232581.shtml

"The writer is a reflection on silent and solitary nature of the creative process of writing, the celebration of the victory of imagination on the isolation from the outside world to which writers must submit to tell the tale. The table and chair, with their abnormal size, and their place in open spaces, became symbols of the condition of the writer, the tools of his victory but also of his sentence. "

" After two years of staying at Villa Ada in Rome, the work has come to the place which was initially conceived, Hampstead Heath, the park of the writers in London. After his stay in England, Parliament Hill Fields, the writer will return to Italy, to find Final placement in the Park of Monza. To mark the bicentenary of the birth of the Park's work will in fact be donated to the City of Monza Rottapharm, multinational pharmaceutical company, with headquarters in Monza. "

I quote from the official press release from the town of Monza:

http://www.monzacity.it/eventi/dettaglio.php?id=536

I came across the giant crab Blacks by-case basis. With Barbara I was walking Park's paths, as these days it happens more frequently than daily. In view of the signals yellow paint on the asphalt, which bore a terse "writer" and nothing more, caught by curiosity, we began to follow them. Not expecting anything like this, when we found ourselves in front of a table and a chair of gigantic dimensions, we were literally speechless. The effect of this is really extraordinary, and it was even more given the surprise of finding something new in an area long known and loved.

As always happens to me the first thing that came to mind was to make some pictures. There is a unique work of art, in the truest sense of the term, the camera captures images every- with me and with me is an extraordinary model: Barbara. The photo did the rest. It is not the first time I create an image of this kind with the same person repeated several times within the same location. It 's a thing I find funny and has in the ability to create infinite verianti and send different messages. In this case, because I particularly like the photo shows a work of art itself already has a lot to say, conceptual art, of course, we can read what everybody wants, but what I have read in 'The writer 'fits perfectly synergistic with what I wanted to communicate with my image, although in fact the arguments different.

Barbara is a rare person. This would be enough to make me love. But one of its best features is the fact that he kept inside when the girl was and that, therefore, very often, still is. I'm not dealing with just childish, I'm saying that you can be in 28 years played the exact same girl that was twenty years ago. Not a woman who behaves as a child but a child, period. This is a wonderful gift. Only people have it as well because we need the ingenuity of the total good, that of Samwise Gamgee of Lord of the Rings, so to speak (which not coincidentally is the sole bearer of the Ring that is not subjugated and the real savior of Middle-earth), to be able to keep itself intact, the child's self despite all the blows that must suffer as the increase in adult eyes and of opening to the world. You should be able to renounce evil, not just the ignorance of those who met him, but the repudiation of those who have already hit my face. This is Barbara.

A person who is able to play on par with a girl of eight years to the point that it will be this little girl to consider her a playmate her like an adult and do not play that lends itself to it. Two eyes that look innocent and curious nature and the world that she is an endless cornucopia of wonders. Capable of soaring enthusiastic to say the least contagious and an irrepressible desire to play.

What would Barbara, and in part made possible, in front of a work of art consists of a chair and a table would have been gargantuan climbing, do somersaults, lie down and look around smiling hopping here and there, peeping out between the legs of the table, playing hide and seek, lie down to watch the sun and sky, do somersaults and back again, bouncing everywhere.

This picture tells so much of what is Babi or at least one of the sides of his personality.

To better see the photo "The writer and 13 Babi" click the link below:

http://www.webalice.it/edmtromb/immagini/Lo 20Scrittore%% 20e% 2013% 20Babiweb . jpg

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Small fires

Another walk in the park,

another unexpected encounter,

another sign of spring progressed:

An expanse of wild crocuses

like little fireworks exploding from the ground

giving color to those who, like me, watching them and the first

nectar insects buzzing.

click the thumbnail!:

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"The world has changed. I feel it in the water, I feel it in the ground, the I feel in the air. Much of what was is lost, because now no one lives who remembers "

with these words spoken by the Elf Queen Galadriel opens the prologue to the first film of the trilogy The Lord of the Rings. Although he was referring to Galadriel changes far more radical and significant, these words came to my mind often, as I watched the changing nature and my thoughts on how long languid in her nature, seems to have no memory of the passing seasons (except that all the trees in their record books wood), but simply outline, in an infinite loop and forgetful.

traditional Spring begins March 21 day of 'Equinox, but the weather begins on the first of the month. So here we are. But for those trained to grasp the meaning, the change is perceptible for a long time. The buds swell, in some cases already open early, the first insects to flit here and there at a brisk, in fact, quite drunk. But is something in particular that has changed and the air can be felt. Galadriel is right. After all the elves know the really long.

I remember the first hints that something new, music, a warmth, a joy to travel through the air, they had already January 11th and I was happy coincidence that brought me these intangible but the happy news my birthday.

may seem ridiculous I know, but I swear the plants have sprawled and laugh with joy these days. If you do not hear is why do not you know listen to them. But there is someone like me who has heard the call.

Yesterday I went for a long walk in the park, with the intention of meeting the great trees that live there. But the real surprise was to find lots of squirrels cavorting in the trees. On the ears still had long plumes that make their winter coat. But hunger was that after the long rest leads them to be so brave and running very active looking for food.

They allowed me to photograph them, as I encounter someone interesting, someone a bit annoyed because he did not want to be distracted from its laborious bustle. Here they are:

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Something in the air 180 degrees below zero

I take this opportunity to thank all those who came at the opening of the exhibition. This will be open until 25th March. For those who just could not come here under you, click on the thumbnail, see the captions that were hung in the views themselves and which contain a smaller reproduction of the panorama. I added one in the photo gallery where you can see the 14 views. The Board is, rather than seeing them in the viewer here next go to the page 'Photos' where you can see a bit' larger (alas all too little for a panorama).

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considerations around the panoramic photography (small introductory guide to the show) to show

Photography nature and in particular the mountain was, in the wide world of images, my first love. Bring a camera with me when hiking in mountains, valleys and woods is how to combine pleasure with pleasure. Always nothing gratifies me and gives me feelings like cathartic to go to mountains, photography allows me to take home a piece of those moments, a fragment of those feelings without actually prey on the nature of its riches. It 's like going hunting without hurting anyone or go for mushrooms, leaving everything in place. The nature photographer has the unique privilege to go to a place, enrich, and leave the place as he found it, depleted in any way.

The photograph in the mountains encloses many aspects, from macro photography of a flower or an insect to photograph the hides of animals. Naturally, however, essential that the photographer feels in the mountains is to capture the magnificent landscapes that can be seen only in these places, the relentless succession of peaks and ridges, rock pinnacles and snowy pyramids which can be seen from the top of a high mountain, the articulation of a path to a green valley dotted with trees and huts. These and thousands of other situations.

what is the problem? The problem is that in almost any case you can not deliver the breadth of a landscape within the confines of a photograph without a notebook the "breath". A frame size without appeal to the world that goes beyond its borders. The remove from reality that it creates in the mind of the viewer. Obviously there are frames and the 3:2 is better than 4:3 and 16:9 is even better. But even the rectangular format, such as the old, in fact, "Overview" of some film cameras, it is still too narrow, in my view for many landscapes. Because the beauty of a landscape in the mountains is just that the boundaries are elusive and the view extends everywhere take advantage of just such a lack limits, accustomed as we are, the city's creatures, not knowing what the longer horizon. Our eyes caught between buildings and concrete, the immensity of the sky relegated to a few slots left free by the vertical growth of our urban jungle.

therefore not enough to have a wide spintissimo the limits of the Fish-Eye and even the most stretched of photo sizes, we need another solution. At the time of the film were invented special cameras that turned automatically in sync on a tripod while the film turned inside its housing. The result was perfect but the method was inconvenient and expensive. Also in this field, however, the advent of digital technology has caused a revolution. Now through the use of numerous software (I will use a dozen) can be combined into one single digital photo panorama exactly the size that we please. Achieve a perfect result is not always easy because there are problems with parallax, exposure and so on, but, finally, the landscapes regain their "comprehensive" and look at the reality that you are "unrolled" in the face as both two-dimensional , gives the viewer the same vision that had the photographer (or at least you get closer than ever).

phases to be addressed once we returned home from the excursion is about to begin post-production are defined: Aligning, Equalizing, Overlapping, Warping, blending, stitching, and finally rendering. A process according to the software can be more or less automated. Some programs are fast anltri lenses, some easy, someone else very complex. But nobody is perfect and the best solution is to integrate more than one, depending on the views to be obtained by exploiting the positive aspects of each one of them. The substance is then that "panoramizzare" in a professional way remains a manual process in some way (and it gives satisfaction) and the computer is essential as it is only a useful tool in the hands of creativity.

In some cases, for example when I'm on top of a mountain and you may not have much time to stay there all I do is take pictures in every direction, only at a later time when I'm at home, uniting them, will choose the framing, the viewing angle, the subject of the landscape. The photographer of landscapes then, somehow, the only requirement, once you find a place worthy of "map" pictures of the area. The creative aspect will come later, comfortably in front when the computer will choose what enters the area photographed in the famous "edge of the frame" and what not.

The freedom of action is greatest. Nothing prevents, for example to dial a full 360 degrees. Usually I always do it from the top of the mountains, more than any other place that allows the eye to wander just for all the three hundred sixty degrees. But I'm not a lover of landscapes too long. Sure they have a descriptive value, "didactic" we might say, in the sense that let you see everything you could really see if you were there, it really is to transfer the entire visual of a place in a single image. From the artistic point of view but in a landscape so long is missing an essential aspect of creativity of the photographer and the 'appeal' of a photographic image, ie the shot. The ability of a photographer is in large part in that, to find the shot that makes the subject more interesting for the viewer, distributing "weights" in the image correctly. In a 360 degree the ability to distribute and enjoyable subjects in the frame in the frame is included because it is less 'whole' and therefore is even less pleased that you are looking at a picture with a BALANCE an apt and original cut. Finding the right length of a landscape is therefore a question of balance between the need to end the frame boundaries of frames too small to have the great impression of a landscape and while away the need to preserve as much as possible ' existence of a "cut" to support an artistic approach to the image thus going beyond the mere representation of places. The views of the exhibition viewing angles between 72 and 300 degrees.

should not forget that the "Panoramizzazione" or more generally the possibility to combine software is a series of digital photos arrangements which only a means to creativity and the horizontal panorama of a landscape is just the most obvious uses. Nothing prevents, for example, to create a vertical panorama, perhaps to photograph a giant tree is too large to fit in a photo or why not take a "macro-pano" by combining a series of close-up pictures that allow, for example, to map in a single image, the long single file of thousands of small ants that travel the busy road between the nest and a food source. These are just examples, among other things, always within the nature photography, use the "Stitching" as the British call this technique in a way a bit different. But possible applications are endless. This exhibition is just one approach to the world of panoramic images, and then, apart from a pair of vertical stitching, has only breathtaking landscape classics. It might be fun later realize an exhibition that highlights the most original and artistic approaches to this technique.

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From February 22 to March 25, at the exhibition space of the library "Books of the summit" being held in Milan Stradella a "180 degrees below zero - Panoramic Picture In High Altitude , "an exhibition of landscapes result of Trai roam the mountains, and my friend's Stefano. The title does not do of course refer to a real temperature but are 180 degrees to the visual landscape of a "type", while 'Below Zero' refers to the fact that they were taken at high altitude.

You are all invited to go and visit.

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The treadmill Treadmills

What's wrong?

Everything flows.

It moves forward? It

You fell asleep?

on a treadmill.

as the airport.

but this back.

while everything goes forward.

Basically, I'm frozen

while I go back, go back to sleep on the world forward.

E 'painful?

sure. my heart goes out to the world.

here's just my head.

a child got stuck in a gate

I was taking my leg off.

Alike

the treadmill

me away thoughts.

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The Wolf, The Witch, Dante Alighieri and Sigmund Freud

I feel the need to speak again the story that I published yesterday.

Like a wolf by a witch.

It 's a story that for me has a great importance, as it is tied to a particular moment and a particular person. Contains within it much more than what you might infer from a quick read. Much of what I will remain, perhaps as that person's will, something will come out today.

"My twenty-five readers" could possibly think that we must have a high opinion of himself to write a story, and then publish it on their own even a guide to reading (in optical drive of course entirely positive).

Well, actually, is certainly the case.

I wrote a couple of years ago in an almost dream-like and jet almost never happened to me. The pace is fast and frenzied as the rush of a wolf in the woods, at the very moment in which I carried within me the words out to me, I was really the wolf and I hope to be able to give the feeling of his race blind and desperate. My usual system of breaks and ruptures, the 'head', and punctuation, I think of my son used to the contemplation of plants and trees grow slowly in this case is not respected. As this story continues to consider part of my "Trilogy of the Trees" (which account for the story walnut, along with 'Leaves', beech, and' A man of wood and stone, larch), perhaps we could say that in this case I once wrote a story instead of "vegetable", a story "Animal" . I am a contemplative person but I also passionate soul who, apparently, sometimes it has to let off steam. The argument is precisely the "Passion." Or better "Eros and Thanatos." Love and Death. ;

Passion is perhaps the experience that the most loving of all houses in its depths the life instinct (Eros) and the instinct of death (Thanatos) in a possible, though difficult coexistence.
As witness to this experience I can think of Paolo and Francesca, the result of a mind quite passionate, as it should be that of Dante. The two lovers, located in the circle of the lustful, wandering for eternity in hell that the storm will sweep them away and, for eternity, one of the most beautiful words ever been written about love:

"Amor, ch ' to no one beloved from loving,

I took delight in him so strongly,

that, as you see, it does not leave me "

Passion is all rare in this ocean of pain and tolerance requirements. The impossibility of give up on love and give love once loved. Despite the disastrous fate that this may prtare that is made clear in the following verse:

"Love led us to one death,"

Here are the evil consequences of the above: the twinning forerunner of Eros and Thanatos. Opening up to the romanticism and psychoanalysis. By Sigmund Freud.

At some point in his work, Freud noticed that the psyche was not only governed by a drive (= binge and primordial) pleasure, but also a destructive drive, a death instinct. The life instinct (Eros), was accompanied by a death drive (Thanatos), the two drives are simultaneously present in every person, as opposed dialectic.

This is Love and Death. Eros and Thanatos.

two concepts that seem distant and mutually exclusive, but as we see, in fact inextricably linked.

When I wrote the story, of course, I had it in mind Dante Freud, nor a comparison between the original Dolce Stil Novo and psychoanalysis. Nothing further. I was simply driven by an uncontrollable urge to write. But the unconscious of every man Eros and Thanatos are eternal struggle and perhaps "like a wolf from a witch 'is a fruit.

The fact that it is a story without an ending is due to the fact that this struggle is, indeed, eternal. Passion of their lives, and in this struggle. Arrive at a resolution of the struggle (both in favor of Eros Thanatos) means an end to the Passion. Better to crystallize all in the time it reaches the climax. A final

actually wrote it, and I lived. but will remain for me.

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like a wolf from a Witch

Way, way, but even the shadow of witches (perhaps no shadow?). Perhaps I should look for a walnut. Because I know that witches escaped the blaze turning into trees walnut. and I also know that under her branches celebrated the pagan ritual of puberty and witches gathered there for their Sabbath. The Druids were the same with the wise old oak trees, but no witches, they preferred the nuts. And the birch? it is said that there is nothing like most witch who dance naked at night, between the logs, silvery in the moonlight, a forest of birches. While watching the wolves howl all night like in the grip of some strange calamity. But I'm just mad with love for those creatures that dance music that you can not hear.

Like a wolf from a witch

A story of Eros and Thanatos

no beginning and no end

... and suddenly like them, one of them, wolf among wolves, run fast, darting between the trees, tireless, relentless, run, run, run, fragmented images of my mates flock running around me and lungs from the red-hot metal fatigue taste cold air of winter. A reminder deaf, I broke out violently, and gently unsustainable in the breast, I devour the heart and soul, and I run, I run faster than others, faster than all, faster than I could, attracted like a moth to a flame by candle, like a castaway from the songs of the sirens, like a wolf by a witch.

leagues endless flow beneath my feet, whole worlds made of ancient forests and endless plains parade around me without them worth a look, only because we care about the call and the time is short. The night is slipping away and with it the time of witches and the Time of the Wolf. Suddenly I realize I'm left alone, the howls of My brothers are far behind me. Maybe I'm the chosen one of the witch? or maybe I fooled myself to and to have the wrong direction? The mind seems to burst, doubt and fear consumes me I cold strip along the spine. For a moment I go through two simultaneous views the mind, the first a woman, dressed in veils amp I caress the fur behind the ears, whispering sweet words in the other the same woman, naked except for a hideous mask, ripping me heart and devours it. I do not have time to think that the turning around I see, not the woman but a strange vision of the hill slope, surrounded by thin fringes of mist rises from the fertile land surrounding the nipple as the Great Mother. I Its slopes are completely covered by birch trees, made up of an odd number of distinct sections. I toss to the top running mad and glad to my fate whatever it is. I go up to big jumps between the silver trunks to a wide open clearing that I see on the summit. I almost reached and I realize that it stands at the center of the impossible size of a walnut tree whose leaves millennium stretch for dozens of meters in every direction. I stop at the beginning of the clearing. The air is cold like the blade of a knife and motionless ... but the leaves of the walnut move in unison and whispered words that do not seem to understand .... I have a vague perception of many creatures that have begun to dance to my shoulders. But my eyes are magnetized one that is not my intention to the tree and from there up to the crown, there I saw a light in the tangle of branches after death that slowly descends on the lawn throwing the shadows of the huge branches as colossal arabesques. The dawn is coming, the sun is rising on the opposite side at the same speed with which a little before I went up the slope behind me. There is no time I have to decide. I toss to the light in a last ditch, gigantic leap .... seems to open the trunk ... the first rays of sun burn the foliage of the tree .... my eyes are starting to see a shape in the light ..... and

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INSOMNIA (the chandelier)

Stare at night with eyes wide open staring at the ceiling.

on so many things can fly over the thought of a night

who needs a perch where to stay and rest.

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Escape grayscale

"Only I'm at the window, today is a day in black and white

rain.

Seeking

melancholy over time some dream that I've done

years ago. "

Quseste words are not mine. The borrow a beautiful song

I honestly believe we can not do better to describe it.

Our Lady of the Depression. and a day in his company.

Sometimes I want to flee in a disorganized as one of these pigeons.

make me small small, disappearing into the pack.

any A pigeon in a flock of pigeons.

Hope is another, someone else to be taken.

coward bastard.

How much is your hot spot on the grid surrounded by millions of your peers?

Yet there is always one that must be in the exact center.

We have to be.

I just want to turn my life

in a two-dimensional expanse of silver nitrate.

a photograph. snapshot.

not matter if it's beautiful. is good pigeons in flight.

the concept is that it is property.

that was enough.

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Outside it is snowing

's snowing. Right now they are only a few small flakes reckless

seem almost scared to make the journey to earth

hypertrophic me my imagination makes them see how little men

driving that broken-down air slowly to the ground screw. I do not know if

cry "Tora! Tora! Tora!" as they fall

(maybe with the voice of the particle of sodium)

but my eyes are many small friendly bombers.

Right now they are saying only a few small flakes, but

down to the ground, it has already stretched a white veil.

As the powder that covers thin, the beautiful face of a Geisha.

This year it snowed so many times, as

not snowed for twenty years.

came to my mind the winters away

85 and 86 when the child, the school closed for

too much snow in the garden and build an entire world of igloos and trenches

then challenge us to war in the most innocent there

made of snowballs and children who were returning home

wet and half frozen, the angry mothers and children happy. Wow

the school closed!

This year is not so, whether the child is gone.

If a meter snow had fallen I am afraid that I would play as then.

My mom probably would not be angry this time,

basically now a son who is used to scale the mountains in winter.

But even if it has not snowed so much, there are already many

morning I woke up and out of my window

was waiting for me a world of white, as if it were entirely new, unwrapped the box

gift on Christmas Day.

I live on the edge of Europe's largest enclosed park

and either try to be one of those guys that capture images

You also understand that for me it is a gift

to which it is impossible to resist!

As that day just before New Year's Day I woke up at dawn

to go to photograph the "World of Narnia"

materialized all around my house

wonderful spell, which occurred, as is fitting in fairy tales

unaware while resting in my bed.

It was -14 degrees.

But it is there that I understand that I was born for this job.

I did not feel the cold while chasing a robin hopping,

timid creature! I hunted for hours ...

so great is the joy of hand-held machine-catching images

I do not regret the hands freeze.

Sometimes rest for hours with the machine in hand in my room

no apparent subject to play with time and aperture to white balance

test or the wonder of a long exposure at night.

that day, then, after robins chased and captured the dream of a world

crystallized and pure

I came back home happy as a schoolboy which have closed the school

Half wet as it was then.

But unlike then, are no longer indestructible

and I caught the flu.

A nice trick which kept me in bed for a whole week

including New Year.

But guys ... it was worth it ...

Meanwhile outside my window

small kamikaze ice have taken courage

they are rushing to millions, and some are nice plump

Narnia slowly recreates

Tomorrow morning I have something to do ...

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LEAVES

rained .

flood for weeks.

The water hurled violent

on that mountainside

where for millennia soared unchallenged

the gigantic size of a beech.

Days and days passed without

than ever the sun did peep

from the thick blanket of clouds.

The sound of thunder rolling down the valleys and streams

fully dug deep wounds

the sides of mountains.

burdened with too much water

the ground where the huge tree

rooted

slowly began to tremble.

In a moment of time is stretched between the rumble of thunder two

a dull rumble

grew

while the huge trunk

the father of the trees began

to wave

and after a few moments

crashed

as the hammer of a judge

after reading

a death sentence.

but a 'one small root

had not broken

and when it finally

after many days

the sun broke out from his prison

clouds to illuminate the immense giant felled

millions of leaves

that now hung inert

a 'unique little gem

opened

and born

a' single small leaf.

But believe me when I tell you

his

was green better than he had ever seen in that world.

It 's the first thing they see only the leaves when they are born.

's why who love him more than anything else

and for life, desperately

tend to him.

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Leaves Tourists, Travellers and the concept of the Reverse Cretivity

With this posting I'm going to do something that any artist should never do.

Unveiling what lies behind his work, openly disseminate the message, in short, naked.

A mystery is important for a work of art. Your message should be worth to be decrypted, it is often the efforts are, the greater the satisfaction that one gets. A famous director about his film said: "If I wanted to just send a message, I sent a telegram." He meant that in a film is not only important to the message. Texture, Script, photography have a duty to make the valid message to be accepted, and never boring. It 'obvious that it is not always so and indeed in many cases it is the immediacy of the force more effective than work. In photojournalism it almost always is. I can think of some famous photos taken in war zones. The face of a crying baby is a trivial example of how an image can hit you hard at first glance, telling you much without the stress (or pleasure?) Dell'elucubrazione.

For me every time I write a poem I never think that it needs to be immediately comprehensible to a reader. Why did not I think of any possible reader when I write. I write because it comes out by itself. It 's a birth, a process that could be called "Auto-Socratic." But on this return later.

The image I wanted to talk about is "Tourists and Wayfarer." Ie "Tourists and travelers."

I've taken on a bad day of November to the Park. I was looking for some nice picture when I came across an exhibition of works of art in the open. Honestly, and for what it's worth my opinion, the series of sculptures was a truly exceptional ugliness, all, without exception. So I made up his mind to try to capture through photography the images to achieve it make them look beautiful. Some of these photos ended up in the portfolio "The park and the snow and maybe someone will tell me if I have succeeded. The day was gloomy, and unable to count on the beautiful colors I opted for the black and white. I trod very clipping (ie the elimination of half-tones) because I seemed to give effect 'transcendent' image, crystallized a fragment of another time fell in this time and in this place.

As I said, entitled "Tourists and travelers."

Tourists are the statues. The Wayfarer is the guy on a bike. Both of the others have wheels. But the tourists are all the same and all look the same direction. In front of you. The Wayfarer is out of the scheme and look somewhere else. Really see the landscape. And it is the only one that ultimately seems forward to really move. There is behind this. This small criticism of the dominant mode of travel today. Where have all moving in formation watching what they are told to see. E 'as a singular message to think of it, for a photo taken at the park in winter, with the intent to make it look beautiful in the ugly sculptures. But the strangest thing is that when I took did not know .. I did not know the message behind it. I found out when I tried to give him a title. It is short, that I am the author I had to decrypt the message as if I were a spectator. With poetry I write is often the same thing before I write .. in some cases, as I said in a long time ago, the vomiting on the sheet. Then, after that, I realize what I meant, what I was saying. But if the message comes after the writing of the work then maybe the artist does not lose the rights to that work? I mean, is not affected his ability to build something?

I think not. I think not. The discussion is complex because it is probing the unconscious. I call this kind of thing "Reverse Creativity" in homage to "Reverse Engineering" ie able to manipulate and analyze the software from the final machine code without source. Creativity in reverse. Fascinating concept in my opinion.

Which Is The Best Mount And Blade

Fat burning (on the altar of vanity)

I have broken through the threshold of 70 pounds.

It had never happened,

once I touched when I stopped smoking

and downloaded the nerves to replace nicotine with food.

taking off his raincoat and the taste of tar, which envelops the endless joys of rediscovered flavors.

Currently none of this.

The papillae are all beautiful clothes wrapped in dark black, like hyenas or Morpheus.

Yet the scale the other day was not lying when

with a subtle pleasure revenge, I'm sure

(in the end we always put our feet in the head),

garrulous declared: 72.9

I'll be honest, that part of me that tends to identify with a man that welcomes new transabdominal cm, reassuring status symbols, he thinks, as he caresses her new life jacket lipid.

vain Part of me incidentally looks with horror at all nostalgic and remember the physical

dry last year when climbing gym and had performed the miracle,

where the hormones were not able to transform the body

a teenager to a man in everlasting.

What beautiful body when it works properly.

So what to do?

This weekend was devoutly committed to the Sports

that the commitments and laziness in recent months had relegated to a corner wretched.

Saturday I went with Miriam and Babi to climb Mount Barro

and Sunday I woke up at 2:55 at night to go with a lot of friends to ski at Abetone

in the middle of Tuscan-Emilian Apennines .

Fighting Ciambellone lipids was therefore initiated.

pace of that part of me that I consider it sympathetically.

Bleedig With Herpe Outbreak

Good Morning Sunshine

Good day to you my mysterious visitor ..

given the limited potential of this means I'll never know who you are at least that

you do not leave me a comment

at this point should be for you a moral obligation.

The ultimate goal of this space is the time to lose in the second instance

and photography.

photography, drawing with light, it's my job, a passion and a good portion of my life.

I have a high opinion of it. Photography.

But this means, limited in fact, did not have it.

photos have a resolution that I can insert tiny, they lose contrast and sharpness.

In fact cease to exist.

So if the ultimate goal was, and it was nice to share pictures

alas there is an ultimate

and even if a first order for this.

It 'obvious that at this stage of life I was given the time.

A blessing in the hands of those who can not use it.

In fact I'm not a priest.

Indeed the blessings I urtica skin.

But thanks anyway. Nor is this a

Blog

hate blogs.

huge dose of self-hate that it takes

to believe it is fair for others interested

to things that autoincensatore

want to communicate. What

complicated sentence.

And then I use the C and K.

Bella letter Kappa but not Italian.

But then if it is not a Blog

why are you writing?

and especially for whom?

talk with me talk with me,

What a wonderful thing to change your mind about things

write down everything I liked

I feel very self-incensed

is short, self-complacent.

And I used a bit 'of my blessing.

Meditate people.

if you like it is obvious