A different Sunday ride

Icarus

Hypnosis

Renounces

Sunday Morning, on the road to Vienna.

Supporting children' sport activity also means giving up with all your personal plans, waking up before dawn and driving fast on an empty highway to reach your destination: the daily tournaent venue, while your beloved still naps on the back seat.

The Paper Train

You don't need to go far to get a proof of the children spontaneity and inventive, when it comes to plying and staying together. Regardless of social classes, education, life styles and local traditions, children can be surprising, if they only were left alone on their own. And walking by the gate of a courtyard on a Sunday afternoon, you can spot a group of them doing something unusual, risky and deprecated that makes you laugh, until you turn the corner of the street and think "what an opportunity for a picture" and step back till you reach a favorable point of view.

Different perspectives

Some prefer to look at the tips of their feet while others are always shooting at the stars.

(Made and sent from my mobile)

I Stop Here

Sunday Afternoon

Gloria

Great Expectations

Gloria

Eine kleine bunte musik

Yesterday evening I came out of my office later than usual, as I wanted to complete a model for some kind of simulations I've had in mind for a while but hardly found the time (and the right open-space conditions) to sketch it and write the code. Just before sunset the model behaved so fine that at the end of the simulation run, as I also said to the only colleague of mine still in office at that time, I was congratulating with myself. So I went out to reach the metro station in a complete state of euphoria.

When I reached Garibaldi station, half an hour later, I spotted a splendid coloring book ("The Enchanted Forest" by Johanna Basford) behind the windows of Feltrinelli library and, having some minutes before the train departure, I rushed in and took one copy for my daughter (of course I had to compensate this "kindness" by taking a book for my son as well). It's been some kind of self-rewarding act. Instead of making a gift to myself I had made it to the "next in queue".

When I woke up this morning my daughter had already perfectly lined up all her pencils on the desk and was ready to start her work. I saw that with her little fingers she was passing over and over the pencils as if she was deciding which hue to start from. So I asked her what was she doing and she replied: "I'm playing a colors' music".

The story teller

Whispers in her ears short stories of the sea floor.

(Sent from my mobile)

An interesting toy

The new smartphone provided by my company is definitely a step ahead of the one I had before. Lots, millions of pixels; plenty of semi-automatic filtering opportunities and the ability to send anywhere a picture just made. Which is something that's puzzling me a bit. The trade off is between information and technique, message and quality, time and space. I'm swinging from one side to the other of this debate. Most certainly the right answer is, as usual, in between. This is probably why I haven't taken a decision yet. 

I'm about to leave for a business trip to Goteborg. I was thinking to bring with me all my gears, thus to make profit of this almost unique opportunity and capture the midnight light over the horizon. All the pictures I took exactly one year ago on the "archipelago" stretching outside the Gota river's mouth were stolen with my PC in July 2014. It's time to bury the dead corpse that's been tormenting me in the last year. Walking the same steps I made one year ago will certainly benefit.

Sent by mail from my mobile.

Macho Boy

It's everywhere been said and written that today's kids are growing too fast and "forge ahead", that they have too much and as soon as they ask it. Looking at my son generation I don't see so many differences with mine. They behave in the same way and make the same errors notwithstanding our constant and pervasive parental control.

This is a picture I took with my mobile after he chose his brand new eye-ware: I can't deny I had more or less the same tastes thirty years ago.

(Sent by mail from my mobile)

Don't turn back!

My son is in a age where shadow lines to cross are found almost every day. It's becoming a though moment for both him, as a young who attempts to look out there in the world, and me, as a father with plenty of doubts about him going by. So I realize that the same shadow line he's crossing are mine. I just need to remember this and try to behave accordingly. Which is not easy at all. Whatever the reason, right or wrong, I wan't call him back, neither I want him to look back to see where I stopped.

F. & G.

Samples from a recent past time.

Flying F. on his shining blue (not shown in the picture) MTB

Fishergirl G. with her first capture of the year (and maybe life)

Is there anybody out there?

Hands up!

We go alone

I was talking with some colleagues of mine, today, during a coffee break at our premises, when one of them started complaining that he hadn't slept much the night before. One of his sons had been out with his friends for a cinema & pizza or something else he didn't want (or couldn't) know. He stood up, watching TV on the sofa in his living room, until his son was back home.

Some of us laughed at him; others sympathized, having had more or less the same experience; I tried instead to suggest him to be less catastrophic and more fatalist. At my words he turned to me and ironically smiling said: "Your kids are still young. Wait and see ... There will be a time when you'll drive them to party. There will be another when they'll take the car to drive you around ...".

Oh my!