Wednesday, December 19, 2018

Gloria

What can happen more unexpectedly the only night of the year you step into a freezing cold church to sit on a bench for more than a hour to hear the local Weihnacht choir? Opening the book laying in front of you and coming across a page where exactly the same prayer that's going to be sung in short, as evening program opening. Should I believe it was only a rare coincidence?

Sunday, December 2, 2018

A quiet morning

Waking up early in the morning with the sun filtering in through the windows of your room, after passing through the naked branches of a winter canopy, is not something that happens every day. It makes you feel a privileged.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Hotel de Mougins

It's going to be a good day. No doubts.

L'Orangerie

In the backyard of the small apartment that I took for this week in Mougins, there are some young orange trees, ripe with fruits getting mature. Compared to the landscape of Austria, at this time of the year, I'm tempted to doubt if I ever made the right choice.

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Provençal Style

The tiny terrace of my apartment in Mougins. I won't be able to enjoy it. The only think I can do is taking a picture and fancying about the best use I could have done. If only the evening was a bit milder, I could sit outside and enjoy the fresh air while sorting out my mail.

Monday, November 26, 2018

About Good Manners

I wonder who would ever knock at the cook's windows on a rainy, misty and cold Sunday morning, on top of the castle hill in Voitsberg. Still, you can never say: I thought myself it should be a Gasthaus to try out one day, with such a devoted personnel. 


Sunday, November 25, 2018

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Our Blind Spot

Like a walking moth, I'm still allure by weird atmospheres created by a simple street lamp.

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

What's left

Sometime I have the impression that my memory is becoming like a city landline telephone pole. What remains of our past experiences? Not much. Just the scars. A handful of staples and pins, well stuck into the wood.

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

The last luft balon

I don't like very much those manipulated B&W pictures showing an element in the frame in its original or artificially changed color, to let it stand out from the colorless background. If I did, you would notice on the bottom left a small (initially) blue balloon, laying on the ground and waiting for its destiny to progress either in the hands of a kid or in a slow inevitable deflation. You would have also seen more things, but this was not my intention today.
I wonder how was this narrow and short court looking like, one hundred years ago. If there were kids playing there, on Sunday mornings and few fathers lazily leaning at the window frames with a cigarette in the hands. Youth looks like being disappeared these days. The town is in the hands of tourists and sellers.

Shipwrecked on a flee-markets bench