Strange creatures wake up at night, crawling in the dark and turning their pleading eyes to the sky.
The mountain between alienation, abandonment and depopulation…
A treasure trove of art, traditions, textile craftsmanship and popular faith, and a testimony to this country town’s privileged link with Venice.
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 past forcefully survives in the present.
The emptiness and desolation that only an earthquake can bring…
In the sleepless and stormy night, two round, yellow eyes wait silently for the arrival of the saviour.
In this house where he was born lived days of serene affection GEN. Mariano B., distinguished archaeologist.
In life there is no place sadder than an empty bed. (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Tattooing as an eternal artistic product and the tattoo artist the ephemeral part.
