The bride’s home

Tears enveloped the tender face of the bride in white as she abandoned the altar of roses and her pile of robes to the ravages of time.


The little house is immersed in the woods of the Euganean Hills regional park.
Entrance: from the road through the gate.


On a winter’s day, just after dusk, we are inexorably enveloped by darkness. Our head torch emits a soft light and, when it is not reflected by the thick blanket of fog, it probes the ground tree after tree, root after root, rubble after rubble.

Finally a wall and following it, a door….then a window. We enter through the shutter, slipping between the two panes of glass.
Inside is a world of memories, keepsakes, heirlooms. We run our hands over the furniture, retracing the shadows of a life suddenly lost and now we see only the scars.

The bride, the groom, the family and a future that slowly faded away and then got lost in the woods, swallowed up as we are by the darkness.
The photos speak to us with words we cannot understand and vibrations of indecipherable sounds.

We can only imagine the story, and who knows what might have compelled this couple to abandon their possessions and belongings. An arcane mystery also looms in the foreground where a wedding dress welcomes us in all its faded splendour. A splendour that has fallen into oblivion like the place itself.

On the map:

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