1. Ich habe es erlebt, und ich kann nicht, darüber nicht denken. A girl entered the shop, to whom I made the effort to speak German. I had already seen her a couple of times, I think I remember her mother, and that she might be the oldest of her siblings. I hadn’t been able … More From the (Buchhandlung)
2. She’s one of the friends with whom I can go on and talk forever. And some things she knows just right, just so right. Sometimes, even if we do not know it, we have the same simple desires. Like a stroll along the sea. A very improvised Lidl picknick, and always buy a little … More From the (summer)
An Uber, to my old flat. Buildings of Lisbon that slowly change. Brighter and shorter, as he drives me closer to our place. Details that make me recognise. It feels as if now I were redreaming it. I’ve never left here, or else I am not really coming back. Spring was going to end soon … More Déjà vu
The acute then deep then acute swirling noise of an ambulance siren, coming quickly close, then loosening, softening, whispering. This is the photo that I took the longest time to take, 0 to postproduce. Your footfalls weakening, spelling out the passing time. Your footfalls fading away, then disappearing, how long has it been now? Minutes, … More The Siren and the Spider
There’s a story I haven’t told here. Not that I forgot, it is always within me (and some have heard it). One morning, I found myself calling an Uber to a place that was not on Google Maps. It had all begun a couple of days before, at a dinner of some friends of a … More Another school
Originally posted on Thimble-drinker:
Spuntava sempre il sole. Arrivava un punto, dopo il tornante immerso nell’ombra del rilievo, in cui il cielo si apriva e una grande luce abitava il mondo. E all’improvviso non potevo non guardare fuori, distolta dal sonno o dalla lettura, e vedevo scorrere i piloni di cemento, le linee si ingrandivano…
Domenica delle Palme. It was probably the only Sunday I really wanted to go to Mass. I remember some sunny mornings, we needed to go earlier than usual, half an hour that does make a difference to wake up. Nice-dressed would we go not to the church, but to the small playground a couple of … More Palm Sunday
Since a couple of years, I’ve been telling a story. The story goes ‘I’ll be studying for one semester in France, then Scotland for two semesters, and the last one will be in Lisbon’. That’s two years of my life. Flying so fast as I am now, chasing a sun that cannot set. But, … More Stories
I am not going back. I am always moving forward. There are too many things. I need to go where they are not (or cast them apart). Space is the most powerful metaphore. —————————————————————————————————— These three things had I written long ago. Not — Eight emergency exits Two at the front of … More Long time no posted – Home
Everything keeps changing around me. So much it barely makes sense to write it down, for in the next minute the Earth will have spun round another bit, and change will have started again. I wanted to write long ago, about a hug that we left on Arthur’s seat. It was a warm day after … More Changing (sweet souvenir)
Thimble-drinker 