“What interests me is living and dying for what one loves.” (Albert Camus)
What I love is telling stories about beauty, about courage, about fear. I hope you can appreciate them and then write your own ones.
The countryside was flat and green through the car window, and looked like a huge pool table with small red-roof houses and cars in the place of the balls. I was moving fast, and that gave me the inverse impression that it was everything else running around: a big game
He is wearing a grey tight suit and a black tie. I probably can’t really guess the original colors, as the whole image is drawn in a restricted series of shades from light black to dark grey. Very much room for imagination. He is sitting on the street, with his
It was a sunny Saturday morning when I heard that song for the first time: the trees were still bare and white under the winter sunshine. Despite the cold wind, there was a sweet smell of spring in the air, which pushed me to walk fast without paying much attention
Three Two One … A myriad of red party poppers is flooding the stage with the melody of Happy Days as background music. A camera from upwards is zooming on the presenter, crossing that rainfall of synthetic petals and filming the man while uncorking champagne bottles with the help of
When my old friend Edoardo, who studies Ancient History at University College in London, bumped into my car, the first thing I told him was : “Edoardo, I still don’t understand why you’re studying History. What do you want to be in your life? And old man collecting boring stamps?”
When an old day ends and a new one hasn’t started yet, melancholy always takes you, harder then ever. Especially if you live somewhere in the desolate South Roman hinterland. I was driving back home in the late night, coming from a party that was held in the countryside, and