A sequence of yellow larch needles unfolds like a luminous fringe in the dark, light and silent.
The light follows their shape, revealing an organic, almost musical rhythm.
There is no center, only flow, a vegetal whisper moving through space with grace.
In this small detail, time seems to slow down. The fragile, composed matter becomes a visual emotion.
An image that doesn’t resolve, but extends: fading into blur, dissolving at the edges. Like a sentence left unfinished, still unfolding somewhere else.
Born in Milan on November 28, 1977, I’ve been living in Bormio for many years, where I work as a ski instructor and draw endless inspiration from the surrounding mountains and nature.
Photography, to me, is not just about representation, it’s about interpretation.
Many of my..
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