It’s a cold winter dawn on Garda lake.
The bartender is heating up the coffee machine; an old man is
preparing the equipment for
fishing; fog slowly lifts from the ground and the air emits sweet sighs,
while I’m
preparing the photographic equipment and try exposure.
Some posts seem to act as sentinels to the landscape.
Then I walked for a long time, until sunset, when the shadows are
heavy and lake rests.
Some sticks seem to act as sentinels to the landscape.
Quickly the view switches off and become ethereal, as in a dream.
It’s time to come back.