The curtain

There is a border. A border that stretches itself waving under the golden fringes of a red velvet curtain. An arabesque, the graph of an electrocardiogram, the sinusoidal path of a perpetual motion between the brim of fabric and the surface of wooden boards. A few centimeters, an instant of suspesion, the perfect balance between…

Quote: The Self-Love Boat

“This mood of wistfulness is infectious. I peer backward, watching Africa recede astern: a chalky line, a white disc seen on edge, a pale host that melts away on the tongue of the ocean. With every olive eaten at mess, we pull closer to Arabia. The porthole to my cabin looks back.  The tiny chamber is…

The Amerigo Vespucci just docked among the pages of Bolina

A new article of mine has been published in the December issue of Bolina (page no. 95). It refers to the arrival in Venice of the historical tall ship of the Italian Navy, the Amerigo Vespucci.  86 years old and still crossing the oceans, the sailer was built with the aim of training cadets and still…

The hidden poet of the lagoon

In the lagoon of Venice, not far from a swing bridge, a bleached, red Volkswagen is parked on a riverbank. From the window of the vehicle, an  old man pops his head with a sociable smile and a vibrant talk. He defines himself as Bepi, the poet of the little town of Eraclea, and starts reciting…

A flying junior in the living room

An old man, his love for the sea and a solution to a technical problem. What reason could bring a proudly orange hull and a carefully rolled sail to the middle of a living room? Why should a small, agile boat be confined outside its element? A new article of mine has been published in…

My article on Turin’s most curious sides..

is online. Stroll around Piedmont’s most famous city and discover a palace with a double personality, a church with no facade, a staircase with a strange emblem, two twin temples, a touch of Egypt and.. Read www.gonomad.com for more information!

A stroll in surprising Turin

Our city guide suddenly interrupts her explaination. She glances in the air, then lowers the eyes to the tip of her toes: “Wait. Can you feel it? It’s the föhn!” she utters triumphally. Of course I can feel it: a warm and dry wind that caresses my cheecks, so unusual in this cold, wintry season. A…

Cold days of a suspended blue

These are cold days of a suspended blue, and a static apprehension vibrates within my soul, that was on other occasions so soft and light. If not for this vigorous tree, this silent companion with his gray cortex, which is standing on a riverbank with his prickly branches, I would unluckily be very far from…

Quote: London gardens

“Some London houses have a melancholy little plot of ground behind them, usually fenced in by four high whitewashed walls, and frowned upon by stacks of chimneys: in which there withers on, from year to year, a crippled tree, that makes a show of putting forth a few leaves late in autumn when other trees…

The perfume of the Infiorata..

is on www.gonomad.com My article is dedicated to the annual feast of Infiorata, which takes place each June in Spello, a medieval town in the green heart of a lesser-known Italy. An amazing tradition, Infiorata is the art of composing wide and colorful carpets with flowers and petals. These delicate mosaics are an ephemeral work of art,…

Light breeze

A decrease in wind speed. The tension of my muscles lowers, the effort to keep my body balanced diminishes. I can finally dissipate my thoughts and restrain from a focused and physical work. The wind, my rig and I just found an agreement: a delicate and sensitive way to proceed. I sail. My feet, now firmly…