Some time ago, I opened my phone gallery and realised I had quite a few images, taken during my excursions through the fascinating places and authentic villages of my region, Abruzzo.
They were there, crammed into digital memory, destined for only two possible paths: to remain buried in an archive where perhaps no one would ever look at them again, or to be published for a second on digital channels, only to sink into the oblivion of the algorithm after a few hours.
Those places, that silence, and those stones deserved something different. They deserved time.
I take pictures with intention. Some moments are meant to be lived, not captured. With friends and family, I choose presence over pixels — and I'm happy to let others do the capturing.
It's a different matter when I find myself in nature in front of a unique and wonderful landscape, or simply in front of a detail that catches me. There, yes — I want to capture it. Never randomly.
That's how the idea for this blog was born — a way to free those images and use them as a frame for words. With one precise rule: choose carefully, share sparingly. I select very few images — those capable of capturing an atmosphere or a detail, as happened in Villalago or among the abandoned houses of Buonanotte. A hint rather than a full picture. Here, photos are the frame, a whisper to spark curiosity — words do the rest.
My sincere intention is to offer a refuge for those seeking slow reading, and above all to plant a small seed of curiosity — one that goes beyond the image itself. I would like this diary to be an invitation to set out and discover these villages in person. To see with your own eyes whether the light in that alleyway is truly as clear as it seemed, and whether the silence has the same effect on you as it had on me.
The technology in my pocket is only the means. The end is to look at this land again — with curious, honest eyes.
Just as the photos here: genuine, unfiltered, the kind you take in an instant, for yourself alone.