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The Rise And Fall of Pizzeria Liceo – One Shot Story
For decades, it was established in 1963, not only the students of the Liceo Classico on the other side of Via Venezia, but almost all the inhabitants of my hometown, paid a visit to Pizzeria Liceo (aptly named after the aforementioned school). Truant students often chose it to spend a few hours waiting to come back home, cheating their parents about their daily chores. New romances began and couples broke up. Lonely young men — and adults, too — would stop by and mumble to themselves about their bad luck in love, family or work. On the way home after a tiring day at work, it wasn’t uncommon to stop by and…
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Coffee at Caffè Nero
On the technical side, this photo was a test of the X-T5 capability to handle scenes with both strong highlights and shadows without increasing the standard dynamic range. As per the quality, despite the similarity of the name, definitely no, it has nothing ado with the ‘Nero’ one can taste in Trieste which —unbeknownst to many — is the Italian capital of coffee.
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Beer or Spritz?
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Fast Food Loneliness in Nagoya…
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StreetPizza@Ueno Park
I took this photograph during a humid summer afternoon in Ueno Park, Tokyo, a few metres away from the art museums and temples that draw both locals and tourists. Amid the buzz of the park’s cultural gravity, I was drawn instead to this fleeting vignette of street food preparation—quiet, unassuming, yet visually dense. What first caught my eye was the can of tomato pulp, “A Pummarola ‘Ncopp,” planted squarely in the middle of the frame like an improvised totem. Its bold Neapolitan red, combined with the colloquial script and graphic of tomatoes, adds a deliberate contrast to the surrounding functional, almost makeshift textures. Everything else in the composition plays a…
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Pizza Maker@Ueno’s Park
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Menu Meditation
There’s a particular silence in cafés just before ordering. That moment when the cold air from outside still clings to your coat, and all attention narrows to laminated options and the quiet negotiations of hunger. This was taken on a grey afternoon in Brussels. A couple sits across from each other, each reading their own menu as if studying for an exam. No phones. No talking. Just decisions to be made: sweet or savoury, warm or cold, this or that. It’s a familiar ritual, yet rarely observed this closely. What drew me in wasn’t the scene’s drama—there was none—but its quietness. The soft concentration on their faces, the gentle lean…
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Damned Pidgeons…
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The Aperitif
This image was taken quickly, just as I passed the window. What struck me wasn’t the act of drinking — which is unremarkable in itself — but the multiple surfaces at play. A woman in profile, lifting her glass; a man absorbed in his phone; reflections of pedestrians I didn’t see until after the shutter clicked. And then the writing — bold, cartoonish, childish even — floating across the image like subtitles with no film. I shot through the glass deliberately, without trying to erase myself or the distractions. The transparency becomes part of the narrative. The drawing on the window, playful and crude, contrasts with the subdued tones inside:…
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Seats
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Restaurant or Killing House?
Taken in Tokyo, this photograph shows the façade of Musashi, a ramen restaurant, but the presentation is far from the warm, inviting atmosphere one might expect from an eatery. At night, under the glare of its signage, the scene takes on an ambiguous mood. The bold kanji, stark in black against an overexposed white panel, dominate the frame’s upper third, flanked by circular emblems. Below, the silhouette of a swordsman — rendered in cut-out form with glowing characters down the centre — adds an almost cinematic tension, more reminiscent of a samurai film poster than a dinner venue. From a compositional standpoint, the frame is split into strong horizontal bands:…
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Every Single Day
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Late Night Conversation at Cardinal’s Wharf
I took this from across the street, handheld in the dark, balancing shutter speed against the pulse in my wrist. Inside, lit by that unmistakable domestic glow, a group leaned into conversation — not performative, not loud, just steady voices behind glass. I didn’t need to hear them. The posture told enough: bodies turned, heads dipped, attention fixed. The architecture did the framing. Georgian windowpanes divide the scene into grids, slicing the figures into segments — fragments of intimacy seen from a public path. The deep contrast between the warm interior and the cool, shadowed exterior gave the photo its form. This wasn’t voyeurism. It was a study in separation…
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A coffee at Saint Eustachio’s
Saint Eustachio is not a place for rushed photography. Between the crush of customers, the warm glare off the coffee machines, and the tight spaces, you’ve got to work with precision — and patience. Using the Fuji X-E2 with a Zeiss Planar 50mm f/1.5, I knew this would be a manual focus game. Autofocus would have been hunting in the low light, and besides, the Planar has a way of rewarding the slowness it demands. I focused carefully on the barista’s eyes, knowing that at f/1.5 depth of field would be razor thin. He was completely absorbed in his work, and I wanted that concentration to be the anchor…
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A Nikon’s Portrait Made With a Fuji
A Nikon camera strap curls into the lower left of the frame, its familiar yellow letters unmistakable to anyone who’s ever held one. Yet the photograph itself was taken with a Fujifilm—a quiet, almost private joke between photographer and viewer. The rest of the image leans into misdirection. The camera is not the subject, at least not in the obvious way. Centre stage belongs to a pair of hands opening a quilted leather handbag, rings catching the light, fingertips poised in the act of searching or arranging. The fabrics, textures, and colours—matte grey, deep burgundy, soft velvet—compete gently for attention. The Nikon strap rests there almost incidentally, but of course…
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Reflexes
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Busy
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One Coffee
The man was seated comfortably in the outdoor café, not in a hurry, holding a small cup of espresso with the ease of someone for whom this ritual is long-established. His posture—leg crossed, coat unbuttoned just enough, scarf tucked in with care—suggested familiarity rather than performance. What interested me most was the way he occupied the space. He wasn’t watching the street or waiting for company; he was simply present. The café terrace around him was active—people talking, a stroller being adjusted, the waitress passing through in mid-step—but his stillness formed the quiet centre of the frame. It’s not stillness as in isolation, but stillness within movement.
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A (Out-of-Focus) Break Between Lunch and Supper
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Cold Stuff
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A Lamp
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A cigarette
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Table Dressing
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Nice Drink
