Sometimes, rarely as that might be, I see a portrait that makes me think that I would have loved it if someone had taken it of me. The exact replica. This is one such example. And it feels so damned strange, because it was a portrait taken by me. 17
Ritornerai, ritornerai da me [Marco Mengoni “Ricordera l’amore”] Basically this was what Venezia was whispering in my ear all the time since March, her voice sweet as honey, soft as a velvet rope. I knew that I would return, I always do, but I wasn’t certain it would happen again
Soundtrack: Raf “Via” (click here to listen)
Angels. They can be sweet, they can be spooky. Look. Here’s one over there. Watching over you or warding someone from you? Who can tell? All I know for sure is that this is my city of angels… Soundtrack: Thirty Seconds to Mars “City of Angels” (click here to listen)
Soundtrack: MGT & Ville Valo “Knowing me, knowing you” (click here to listen)
The shadows were still the last domain of the departing winter, icy and biting. The highlights though while not yet blinding were already warm and embracing… Sountrack: A-ha “Dark is the night” (click here to listen)
Gaia remembered the first weeks, even months after moving to live in the city were petrifying. She would mostly sit in her room and listen to the sounds of the streets invading her room through the open window – voices of people passing by, dogs barking, bells ringing – and
When summer heat takes over, Venezia transforms yet again. It becomes a kaleidoscope of pitch black shadows and blinding shafts of light. To stay behind the scenes or to step onto the stage, that’s for you to decide…
When a journey to Venezia appears on the horizon it always feels like Christmas Eve no matter the season. And as this year’s spring adventure draws ever closer I thought Id share 37 glimspes – one for each day that still separates me from La Serenissima – from the archive.
They had set their encounter in a suburban part of the city, the abandoned district where nobody dared venturing out of free will and for good reason. Stories of ancient spirits lurking around looking for their wrongdoers were too detailed to be just imagination. Where are you?