september wedding

summer at a friend's

Here we are again. Time for holidays around. Drinking a cup of tea on the balcony at Greta's. We spent together a few days of our August.

At the beach talking about useless topics and admiring the texture of the side table's peg. Staring the pebbles makes you feel more grey inside, till the night starts to rise. We just smell the scent of some spaghetti and clums someone is eating now and it seems to hear the toast too, two flutes of champagne. But we made a mistake: there are no glasses, just a bottle dug in the drench sand. And the sun goes down.

Drinking beer at a seaside icecream bar. After a dinner made of meat and veggies we put on a random dress and a pair of wedges: that's all about it, in the summer. Ride your bike, also with wedges it will be fine. Go out, in all your forces, hanging around during a summer night; this is the right time to do it, tomorrow you will be old. And you think about colours once more, noticing your increasing white hair reflected in a window.

Candle light. Yellow light, dark wood. Pale wine. Dressing gown that we'd better call t-shirt. Smudged lipstick belonging to who speaks too much, end of a night.

I forget lots of snaps that will never come again. It's night on the deckchairs near the see. We notice a strange sail in the middle of the dark, looking like an ancient painting. But it is actually the moon. It grows and rises from the see and when it is high in the dark it's time to stop talking and go home.

sunset

...and this was the harbour in my grandma's town. All ended up with a nice dinner with panzerotti, which are typical from this area.

white houses

This place is full of houses painted in white, as every mediterranean town. You can find them everywhere and when you spot a group of them from the street they look like a little fantasy world.

My grandma told me that in a little street where there used to be nothing before, there's still a little chapel, really tiny, like probably a little bit more then 2 metres wide. And then they built all the houses around, (like in the film Up) and now this chapel is all vertical and squeezed between them. It's closed and it's a pity because I'd like to look inside. Its name is San Giacomo, but no mentions of it. The street's name was San Giacomo as well, because before there was just that chapel in the street. And this name suggests of course the name Santiago (the same saint), indeed the pilgrims used to pass by here on the way to Santiago de Compostela.

little town in southern italy

I've always been around these streets during the summers of my life, but only now I can notice things differently. I'm starting to appreciate these places only now. There is a very nice feature here, they sell things on a chair outside the house. So if you notice something you're interested in you just knock and buy what you need. Earth to table.

Today we bought figs and indian figs, typical from this countryside.

And this is how they use the garage.

my gramma's seaside house

This house is full of memories. Of forgotten objects and valuable things, of dusty surfaces and opaque crystals.

Of grown up children gone away and abandoned cradles.

Of evaporated fragrances, and too white laces.

A phantom radiogram reminds me of my youth games telling of dolly-size ball rooms, which were indeed the two doors of the small pantry for alcoholic drinks inside this cabinet.

My great grandpa was in the Royal Navy.

And my great grandma has something of Princess Leia.

And then my great grandma went to get the passport to fly to NYC, to visit one of her sons who was down there. She was born in 1890. 

a summer night in a little town

random summer

I've stopped working just for a few weeks cause I'm going to go around the country, probably with a backpack or so. Time to say hello to friends who are going to stay here working during August. I'm in Milan tonight, at a friend's, cause tomorrow I'm going to catch my flight for a southern city.

We've been around all the evening visiting some open exhibition and buying shoes. The underground, seen with the eye of who is not working now, is very different, it's almost pleasant. But I think that anyways it will always remind me of travelling for a job in a busy city.

to my grandma's house

The place where I stay when I want to feel shorter. Little like I can fit in the chair I used to sit when I was a few centimetres tall. There you go if you want to sew or taylor a dress with my grandma.

Her kitchen tastes like when I was 5, the same old woody taste. And if I go outside on the balcony I can find my metal shovel I've used for ages for mixing soil into my grandma's plants. Now the difference is that it's a little bit rusty.