Abandons
An aimless journey in a hot month of May, away from the tourist routes, along a stretch of coast, to discover a still wild nature, an enchanting sea in its splendid shades, from tiffany to blue, and where time passes slowly.
I catch what I see and what my gaze creates:
Places, buildings, objects here and there abandoned, degraded and that time and the indifference of human beings have transformed; where the physical elements take on an almost metaphysical dimension, simple and essential for the balance of this microcosm.
Places and objects that speak of silence, sounds, lights and shadows, colors, smells and solitude, permeate the environment, making it suspended between reality and nostalgia, where time becomes elastic.
Places and objects of ordinary people, even banal ones that have a life of their own, with the desire to tell as if it were possible for them to come back to life.
I let go of my gaze and my journey becomes intense and suggestive, with a silent, almost intimate charm.
And in the meantime I wonder why my eye runs on the decadent and not only on what is here and now. Perhaps, in an age of uncertainty and questions about the future, knowing that time does a job, always the same without discrimination, consoles me. The dilapidated implies stories, it is the signal of what has been and will probably still be; it gives an aesthetic value, sometimes even a romantic one, to time, things and stories.
I wonder why leave the world of abandonment of natural beauties, places, objects and stories, as if there were no future.
Maria Novello
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