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The perfect ski outfit
… which one is best?
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Under the Yellow Umbrella
It had just stopped raining—just enough to make the pavement shine, but not enough to fold away the umbrellas. I took this photo in passing. No setup, no waiting. Just a quiet moment shared by two people walking slowly, pushing a shopping trolley and carrying a red bag, both tucked under a loud yellow Bardahl-branded umbrella. The kind of umbrella you don’t buy, but are given somewhere and end up using forever. There’s nothing dramatic here. No grand gesture. Just two people—maybe a couple, maybe not—navigating a wet day together. The colours caught me: the dull browns, the muted jackets, that flash of red, and of course the umbrella. It…
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The sentinel…
… hawkeye!
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Bored
… why go to dinner together, just to enjoy a boring night?
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None of my business…
Two local police agents try to block an African guy because of the CD he was supposedly selling. But this is none of our business…
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Enough…
When we were young, nothing could have stopped us. When we were young…
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The Scooter
Trying to run faster than its shadow.
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Who’s carrying Who?
…
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A videographer…
… or a human sundial?
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What a odd couple of bipedals…
told himself the seagull.
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The Real Street Photographer
Bold and without fear…
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A promenade
… in a forbidden place.
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A moment of break…
… before a hard working day starts.
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No time for lunch at Piazza Fiume …
in a busy day
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Alive or not?
… only the cigarette can tell.
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The Ghost
at noon…
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Hard work
… while the others have fun.
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Multitasking
guess who is the most involved? … the chair, of course!
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The Businessman…
Restless, waiting for the last flight to come back home.
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Impatience
In a hurry, while somebody else is late…
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Generations
Generation after generation, the passion for the photography always lasts.
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Lost in iPhone while the wind blows
A man walks along the seafront, head bowed, gaze fixed on the tiny black rectangle in his hand. His grip is firm, the frown on his forehead faint but telling. Behind him, palm trees bend slightly under the steady breath of a marine wind, and the horizon dissolves into a washed-out Mediterranean haze. It could be spring, or autumn—hard to say. The light is neutral, as if suspended. This is the image of the now: digitally connected, sensorially detached. The tide rolls, the wind whispers, figures drift in the background—and he is elsewhere. Not here, not in the place his body inhabits. Not with the sea, not with the moment.…
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People
People. So you wanna be a street-photographer, kid?