Altri Giorni - SIGNED

Do you know those days when everything is still, and it seems like nothing is happening? So, you walk or take a drive with no specific destination in mind, just for the sake of it. Those days when you are invisible, perfectly camouflaged in the moving mosaic of any city, among any people, rushing around or sitting at a café table waiting for their next coffee. Or those long, endless summer afternoons when even breathing can become tiring—at times—and you try to walk on the side of the street where there’s a bit of shade that gives you immeasurable relief, like the gentle touch of your mother when you were a child.

This handful of photographs is a collection of those moments that you want to protect from the ever-looming oblivion. Memories that would be lost if no one had saved them. And it would be wonderful if, looking at them, someone had the feeling they had already seen them.”

From Lorena Carbonara’s afterword:

“I closed my eyes, leaning on the echo of his voice, trying to recover the first fragment, the moment when, as a child, I realized that the world I saw was not the same as the one others saw.

I fight fear with methodical gestures, like always placing my glasses on the nightstand in the exact same spot. I owe everything to them, maestro, to my glasses.

The stove has gone out. Outside, the forecasted rain has arrived along with the north wind, and the corpses of leaves on the square now swirl in the air. There are many traces of winter in this autumn.

My dear maestro, I don’t think I can write tonight: my eyes are tired, and my soul weighed down by memories.