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The 365th Shot: Between Sacred and Profane
“Between the Sacred and Profane” is the 365th picture that I’ve posted on this blog and it is the end of a one-year project where I made a point of publishing one picture per day. When, exactly 356 days ago, I decided to start I couldn’t imagine what would have been happened. I became deeply involved into exploring different genres and styles, covering big live events for a music magazine, cinema and arts awards ceremonies, street-photography, portraits, photojournalism and sport events. I went in for a couple of contests and started giving (for free, as I promised) seminars about the rights of the (street)photographers. Of course I don’t do photography…
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Parking Lot
Something wrong, over there?
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St. Peter in Background
St. Peter and Castel S. Angelo as seen from the fourth floor of the Corte di cassazione (Italian Supreme Court.)
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The Empty Stage
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The Wild Bunch
Our for shopping at the wrong time!
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The Casual Observer
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Garbage Collection
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Pillars Of The Beach
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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,…
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Nightlife
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Trick or Treat?
Trick or Treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat.
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The Spinners
I want to ride my bycicle…
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A Dangerous Alley
A parking entrance at night. A dangerous place.
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Footprints
is it an oil painting, or is it for real?
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Couples
Two couples in a square. One seeks rest, the other, food.
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The Mailbox
No News, Good News.
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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.