A treasure trove of art, traditions, textile craftsmanship and popular faith, and a testimony to this country town’s privileged link with Venice.
Tears enveloped the tender face of the bride in white as she abandoned the altar of roses and her pile of robes to the ravages of time.
The past forcefully surviving in the present.
The emptiness and desolation that only an earthquake can bring…
In the sleepless and stormy night two round, yellow eyes wait silently for the arrival of the savior.
In this house where he was born lived days of serene affection GEN. Mariano B., distinguished archaeologist.
In life there is no place sadder than an empty bed. (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Tattooing as an eternal artistic product and the tattoo artist the ephemeral part.
A division between the sacred (the abandoned place) and the profane (the society). Only certain individuals, endowed with a certain knowledge and therefore charged with a certain energy, can cross this threshold.
Swallowed by the darkness and the waters of Lake Trasimeno we end up catapulted into its meanders and winding paths.