There's something new going on...

...more specifically, a new blog on architecture.

That's ARCHITECTURA for you all - it's in Italian, and I'm pretty proud of it.

I take a picture of you to remember how good you looked...

Henri Cartier-Bresson says that to capture the real self of things and people on a photograph, one should sit next to them for hours, become part of the surroundings and only then shoot pictures.

Well, I did so, too.

Not with a camera, though, just with my mind. I sat there for hours, a couple of weeks ago or so, and became part of the surroundings et al while quietly observing him live his own day. I didn't interfere, all I eventually shared with him (words, mainly, and glances and smiles) came directly from him. I captured everything and everything is now stored in my mind, not in the back of it, it's everywhere. I can't see a thing around me, I can't do a thing that won't remind me of him all the time. And I like this floaty state of mind a lot.

Maybe he was taking mind pictures as well.

Photolog / 7

(click on thumbnails to view larger images / clicca sulle foto per vedere le immagini ingrandite)

last but not least...bonus track:

I'll be there... ;-)

Photolog / 6

(shot during the "White Night" in Rome, on Sunday at 2am, short before the black-out...)

Goodbye, Robert.

...you know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love...

No comment...

...so if I can't make you love me, if I can't make you care, what price can take me there?

A life of sanity and dignity
You know it takes two
And what's the use in being a millionaire
If I can't have you

I wanna buy you a home
I'll pay your friends
If you're feeling alone
The pain of losing a guy like you
Is a bigger cost
Than paying your dues

I can buy you, oh yeah, oh yeah
But I can't make you do what you don't
And I can hire you, oh yeah, oh yeah
But I can't make you love me
I can't make you

You say I'd never go for a little
And I always need more
And you're a thousand dollar playboy
That I just can't afford

But I guess you got me, oh, oh
You got me hanging around
For too long
I don't wanna stop it, oh no, oh no
I bet your life that it's
With me you belong

And I can buy you, oh yeah, oh yeah
But I can't make you do what you don't
And I can hire you, oh yeah, oh yeah
But I can't make you love me
I can't make you care

So if I can't make you love me
If I can't make you care
What price can take me there
In this world
Somebody told me cash is king

I didn't mean to force you, oh no
But I bet a fortune it's
With me you belong

And I can buy you, oh yeah, oh yeah
But I can't make you do what you don't
And I can hire you, oh yeah, oh yeah
But I can't make you love me
I can't make you care
I can't take you there
Anymore

(A Camp - "I can buy you")

I don't know what to do with myself...

The thing is, I'm a bit fed up with people not understanding what I try to say.
It's probably all my fault, I guess I shouldn't be writing things as if it was a page cut off Bridget Jones 3 - with extra dysfunctional syndrome filling! or Ally McBeal's latest episode's script.
'Cos people end up thinking I am joking all the time, while actually I'm not.
So, in the end, it' fairly plausible you think it was somebody pulling your leg or something.
Well, if you happen to read this (you won't, but one never knows), I wasn't pulling your leg. At all.
Truth is I am:
- too funky and shy to walk up to you and tell you how I feel right to your face - that's why I send you email instead;
- scared by the fact you could think I'm either stupid (does it make a difference if I tell you I'm not?) or too young for you (for heaven's sake, you're 13 years older than me, but it's not like I am 12, is it?) or too ugly (I dunno how to defend myself on this, you're probably right.);
- worried you would still think it's all a joke even if I tell you I'm not joking a thousand times.
To cut a long story short, I don't know what to do.

(soundtrack - "I just don't know what to do with myself", written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, sung by Dusty Springfield. Back off White stripes!!)

Photolog / 5

(click on thumbnail to view larger images)

Oh. My. God. (refrain)

*swoon*
:)))

...Mr Darcy!

Humph. I've had enough. Of Italian TV, that is.
Today they started showing that silly programme, Sarabanda (Mike, if you happen to read this, that's the one where a bunch of morons guess songs' titles listening to bits of midi files or something, you saw that when you visited here.), again, which, apparently, has replaced Will & Grace. Up to next Summer. Chuh.
Therefore, I solemnly declare war to Italian TV, up until the day a national channel telecasts BBC's Pride & prejudice, yep, that's the one with Colin Marvellous Specimen Firth as Mr Darcy.
Ask Bridget Jones for details.

[piccy taken from Firthissimo!.]

...especially for Bea - part two...

(clicca sulle immagini per vederle più grandi...)

Season two...

Sometimes people ask you to go back home...

Things that make you go hmmm...

Now, I'm not stupid, and You know that, and I perfectly know that:
- David Sylvian is married to Ingrid Chavez, and they even have three children;
- Colin Firth is married to Livia Giuggioli, and they have two sproglets, too;
- Erwin Schrott...uhm, I have no clue, but, to tell the truth, who cares, better leave him there singing opera stuff...
...so, in the end, You have no choice, God, therefore You're kindly asked to fulfill Your duty and either make person-with-vast-knowledge-of-history-of-architecture realise I actually exist or deliver him directly onto my doormat.
As easy as that.
C'mon, You know You can do that, can't You? Huh??