[Poetry] may make us from time to time a little aware of the deeper unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves. T.S.Eliot
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Up hill
These are just few samples of the local Tyrrhenian architecture that I was able to snap early in the morning, along on our daily climb to reach the beach of Maronti. It might sound strange, on the island you always have to climb before going down and enter the sea. It's a healthy, training process that slowly strengthen your mind and body.
Upon leaving and getting back to the city, you end up missing the heat, the fresh sweat that constantly stains your shirt and drips from your forehead, the smell of green volcanic sponge rock upon which everything stands and that makes up the surface of every wall.
Taxi Boats
Lido dei Maronti, Ischia. The southern side of the island observed from the hill on a quiet morning. Two taxi boats cross their trails on the plain water surface.
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