Shadow and light. To Flore. For the last few years, if my wanderings flew me to Italy, I seek for Artemisia Gentileschi’s paints. I want to see her pieces in “flesh and blood” so I might glimpse at her obsession, so I might breathe her passionate colors, so I might sink into her violent stories. … More Roman Holiday – DAY 5
From the infinitesimal to the infinitely great. Today again, the Dolce Vita is fooling me. Any action takes its own time and teaches me patience. Roman minutes are not the same than anywhere else. All the better… I like more and more being wandered throughout narrow and shadowed meanders. Brushed by ocher and leafy walls. Flown … More Roman Holiday: DAY 4
Anita. Her child in her arms, breathless but full of bravery, Anita was galloping like she was flying. She was running for her child’s sake, for her own immortality; she was running for the liberty of people who weren’t hers but that she called her own, weren’t they all citizens of the world fighting for … More Roman Holiday – DAY 3
The old man and the parrot. I shut the door of the apartment Via Pigneto as first morning hours ring. I would like to avoid the heat, I would like to avoid the crowd. I hope to gaze at white marble fountains stripped from the touristic amazement. Already too late though, Fountain of Trevi gets … More Roman Holiday – DAY 2
The Garden of the Vestals. Monday. Lunedi. Lundi. It is the day of the Moon and I am standing, under the sun at its highest, above eternal lands. I wander along Roman Empire’ s ruins and I am only thinking about the burning sun, about drops of sweat in my back. I am only thinking … More Roman Holiday – DAY 1
It is only fair that after sketching a little piece of French Alps, I went for some reunions with my own natal mountains, French Pyrénées, and this, in such good company since this short journey was the occasion for some time spent with my dad.We had chosen, as starting point for our improvised divagations, Fontagente Ponds … More An escape to French Pyrénées
And GALAMUS, this alien name strangely sounding Indian; and GALAMUS, this rocky and unbelievable being, cut by the Eagle River, sculpted by ages, hid unspoken secrets when I came, blended in hundreds of swimmers trying to escape heat waves in between those white and immortal rocks. But GALAMUS has so many immemorial stories to tell, I will invent some for you here … More Galamus’ secret
I left my adopted Cathars for three days and three nights in order to breath some fresh air and visit my favorite Savoy Healer! The Triplets of Belleville missed a third wheel to their tandem but what a beautiful mountain! I got a shot of French Alps in about 2 shakes of a lamb’s tail, … More A Detour to French Alps
I used to feel the same when I came home, as clueless as Blanche. I especially remember my departure for my first summer in the US: as I was locking my apartment’s door, cheerful and impatient of my destination, I already foresaw this happy action would be my grave when I would come back. But not today, because today I won’t go through the same doorway that watched me going. And today, I know why I am coming home. I am not totally sure to know why I left but I know why I come back. I am fearless. … More Midwater limbos
I get to NYC full of assumptions and bad feelings. This big apple is very not appealing for me. Stopping by last Saturday didn’t give me a good taste and I struggled so much to find a decent place to crush at – apparently, only couchsurfing hosts available in NYC are horny male who expects … More New York New York
Fleeting Wor(l)ds 