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An interesting reading
To seat or no to seat?
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The three musket(b)eer
Guess who’s Porthos?
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The Icecream is ready to be served
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A chat on a lake shore
Countless photos like that have been shot. But enjoying a good moment together always deserves to be recorded
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The Mailbox
No News, Good News.
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Fashionable’s shots
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Iron Gate
When craftmanship meets art.
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A relic from the (recent) past
less than twenty years have gone, and a telephone boot looks like a relic from the Stone Age.
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Rest on the lake
enjoying some fruit.
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Waiting for the goal
Why can’t I enjoy my soccer team’s match instead of wasting my time here? Because my wife loves music…
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Segway Chase in Villa Borghese
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What lasts after a party…
Bacardi, beer, and a strawberry.
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The Hands of a Drummer (Horacio “El Negro” Hernandez)
You don’t photograph a legend. You try not to get in the way. This frame is all rhythm, no fanfare. No face, no spotlight—just hands, sticks, cymbals, and breath held between beats. It’s Horacio “El Negro” Hernández in concert, but not in the way the audience sees him. This is closer. Quieter. The private side of percussion. Shot just beneath the hi-hat, I framed the photo to let the hand speak: fingers curled not in tension, but in dialogue. The skin slightly worn, the grip half-visible—mid-phrase, mid-flow. The cymbals catch the stage light like the faintest of brushstrokes, shimmering but not stealing the scene. You can feel the groove here.…
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Knocking on lion’s door
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Still together
After a lifetime, Still together, like the very first day.
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The missing guest
Everything is ready to start the party, but a missing place suggest that they still have to wait…
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Waiting for a Future to Tell
Behind the slightly dusty glass of an old tobacco shop window, a box of tarot cards stands upright, holding its ground with a quiet dignity. The label reads taotl, the colours still vivid despite the years: red flames, green leaves, a central emblem that seems both protective and dangerous. Beneath, the name Masenghini anchors it in a very specific history of Italian card-making, a craft now mostly relegated to collectors and the nostalgic. Around it, other objects share the same slow fate: a light-blue school exercise book titled Quaderno, some patterned boxes, a rolled cylinder of bright turquoise paper. Everyday relics, all bathed in the soft, uneven light that only old glass and time…
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Late-afternoon’s snack
…who knows what will be served for dinner?
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The Worst Moment to Fix a Shoe’s Problem
Caught on a descending escalator, mid-bend, mid-thought—this is the photograph of a decision made too late. Everything in this frame leans forward. The vanishing point pulls you down, hard, like gravity with intention. The blur on the metal steps mimics momentum. You can almost feel the hum of machinery and the silent urgency of descent. At the centre of it all: a man hunched over, trying to wrestle control over something small and unruly—perhaps a loose shoelace, perhaps something more symbolic. I didn’t plan this shot. It happened fast. A reflex. Shot handheld, low light, no time to think, just enough to feel. The imperfection—the motion blur, the noise, the…
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An old-style ATM
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No Tablet, No Problem
Airport Gate, Early Evening No screens. No earbuds. No glowing rectangles in sight. Just two people passing time with cards and conversation, waiting for a flight that’s probably delayed. The bench is metallic, cold. The lighting is flat. But between them, something human is happening—casual, quiet, and becoming increasingly rare. I didn’t stage this. I just noticed it. In a terminal where most people were curled into devices, these two were leaning forward, sharing space, actually looking at each other. He speaks, she listens. She gestures, he laughs. Their luggage is there, sure—but this moment isn’t about where they’re going. It’s about the pause before it. The photo isn’t sharp…
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Who is the mannequin?
… not sure.
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The Urban Chase
Not all of the urban chases, involve a couple of Alfa 159 trying to catch an Aston Martin
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So what?
Did I meet you before?
