-
Evolution of a Guitar Player
I left Roberto Di Virgilio more than ten years ago playing a Steinberger and I meet him again now, playing a Les Paul.
-
The Calm Newsreader
While somebody rushes in hurry, somebody else enjoys a moment of peace in Piazza del Duomo
-
A Lost Towel
No one around. Just sun, sand, and something left behind. The beach was empty when I passed through—early or late, hard to say—but this towel was there, alone, crumpled and vivid. Its colours refused to blend in: yellows, reds, a printed image of something once meaningful, now half-folded by the wind. It didn’t look forgotten. It looked abandoned. What caught my eye more than the towel was what surrounded it: tyre marks, footprints, all criss-crossing paths layered into the sand. As if everyone passed by but no one stopped. It felt recent, but not urgent—like whoever left it didn’t mean to come back. The shot came together quickly. Low angle…
-
Everything is ready for the service
… but the attendees
-
The Smoke Teacher
-
An unusual flowers’ field
-
The Elders’ Council
-
A Seagull in Rome
No, thanks. We need no glass…
-
The Restorer’s Nest
Bringing back to life what was nearly lost
-
A Quiet Evening
… in the heart of Rome, an old trattoria let people enjoy a quiet diner.
-
Behind the News
He stands in full sun, blazer buttoned, shirt crisp, mic in hand — delivering his segment with composure. It’s a classic image: the field reporter, live from the square, holding the line between chaos and clarity. But move the lens just a little wider, and the story changes. Because behind the camera, a different truth unfolds. The cameraman, sleeves rolled up, and the tourists slouched in the shade — legs stretched, sandals kicked off, hair tied up in the heat. They’re close enough to hear the words but completely removed from the illusion. And that’s the beauty of it: two realities, divided by a lens, staged in the same space.…
-
The Sailor
Hey, there’s no water straight there!
-
Trento, After Dark
There’s a plaque on the wall behind them—honouring soldiers of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, fallen in a war a hundred years gone. But they’re not looking at that. Instead, three boys sit shoulder to shoulder on a wooden bench, huddled around a glowing Apple logo. A little too bright for the square. The light falls on their faces the way a fire once would have. They’re focused, not speaking much. Two watch the screen; one taps at his phone. Nobody’s in a rush. This is Trento at night: limestone façades, uneven cobbles, Mediterranean shrubs in planters, and now Wi-Fi in the air. The square is mostly empty. Just a few benches,…
-
What lasts of a springtime hailstorm
-
Restaurant or Hellgate?
The only way to tell is to cross the door… good luck!
-
Nightlife
-
Alone, Together…
Are they friends, or do they just share the table?
-
Hanging News
-
A Moment Of Rest
Every place is the right place, when it comes the moment for a coffee…
-
A Mini At The Garage
A Mini Cooper to be serviced.
-
Who wants to live forever?
I found this sign in a narrow alley in southern Italy, somewhere between a forgotten tabaccheria and a shuttered photo lab. The kind of place where time no longer hurries. “Kodak films in vendita qui” it proclaims—still, stubbornly, as if refusing to accept the world has moved on. The once-bold red letters are now softened by decades of sun, rain, and indifference. The plastic casings holding each letter—cracked, leaning, imperfect—speak more truth than any marketing slogan ever could. It’s a ghost sign, still selling hope in an age when its promise has nearly vanished. This isn’t just a relic of analogue photography—it’s a whisper of what we thought would last…
-
Trick or Treat?
Trick or Treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat.
-
The Spinners
I want to ride my bycicle…
-
The Pizza’s Journey
From the oven to the the bench…
