Alone. Wandering through a silent and empty city.  The power of balance.  Between emptiness and narration.

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

There I was. In a Silent City. All I could see and perceive were endless stretches of no-one. Where am I going? South? North? Back into the past or running fast towards the future? As I kept walking along Avenue-of-Present-Non-Sense I saw a sign hanging mid-air. "This is Beyond Me" next right turn. Moving apathically I kept wondering what in the heck was this surreal disparaged space I was finding myself in. I frantically took another big breath of air and...air was all I got.
I glanced around scanning the Horizon for any sign of relief but...the city stared back at me.
Photo by lilypenelope

A sweet fragrance floating in the air. Vanilla? Repetition. Of rolled leaves. In a cigar store. With my friends Don and Jimmy. Photo by lilypenelope

Photo by lilypenelope

I'm finally back home. Yet departing. Towards new destinations. New projects. New walls to paint. New leaves to collect. New grounds to walk on. I didn't have a great vacation at all in the states (but thankfully I had "The Table Friends" to rely on). Glad I'm back. Home. Wherever that is. Photo by lilypenelope

....to be continued...

A walk on the beach. The city behind me. The horizon in front of me. Water in-between. The sound-{s} of nature. Thoughts are flying. In space. The end of Land - "Finisterrae", the beginning of a new "state": Imagination. Photo by lilypenelope

If this wall could talk how many stories would it tell us? How many anectdotes, fragments of lives, urban poems could it narrate? Pieces of juxtaposed realities that daily cross path through the streets. But maybe, that's actually the beauty of walls. Their speechlessness. We can imagine what happens right in front of it. Dream. Or we can take a spray can and make it ours, leaving a trace on it, an image, a word, a drawing. Our story on it. Our story in our city. Aren't we all the writers of our reality? Photo by lilypenelope

Around the city. Floral compositions. Photo by lilypenelope

The sky is infite. That's what we all are used to say. Where is the line though that divides the limits of the infinite? As you all know I adore staring outside my windows. Not really in a voyeuristic way...really! I just look at the sky thinking "that freak of a weatherman was wrong again". I look outside, I admire the beautiful everchanging color of our everyday roof, the sky. I look at the birds flying, I listen to them sing. I look at the planes flying and I smile trying to imagine where they are going. I dream about me sitting on a plane flying somewhere. Hopefully not next to the old fat lady that made my flight turn into a nightmare. When I found this old picture I took from the top a building in Downtown Los Angeles with my friend Efrem a feeling of joy started running through my body. First of all remembering the adrenaline while we were illegally going onto the roof to shoot some pictures. Then remembering the beauty of the city from a different angle. Ohhh those old billboards!!! Such works of art! There, on top of the roof of a huge building the sky wasn't only above us but right in front of our estatic faces. The billboard was the arrival yet creating a new starting point for our endless imagination. A man made construction in the middle of the sky. In front of us. Sad to realize that from my apt, shifting my eyes from the infinite above to the reality in front of me the line is very visible. Not a line through the infinite. But the line of my bank account going lower and lower. In front of me the taxes Building!
Photo by lilypenelope

It doesn't happen that often that I look at my city from above. Like the "small town Icarus" I went up the hill, went inside the "3rd castle" patio and then I started to look towards the dark horizon. Down not that far there is the lake. Down, meters below, there are 2 other castles. Yet, what strucked me was the beauty of my city from above. Detached from the everyday. Detached from the street level. Detached from those routines that, day after day, create my urban experience-(s). Now, on top of the hill, all I see is a perfectly calm image. Lights softly guide you through the mysterious darkness of the night. As I drove back down a song was playing at the radio. It's words started to fly through the open window... "These streets will make you feel brand new Big lights will inspire you"...
I'm not sure how much my town still inspires me but, many stories have already being written, nothing new appearing on the blank pages of my urban everyday journey but, looking at it from a different perspective yes...those lights inspired me. And made me feel brand new!
Photo by lilypenelope - Bellinzona from above.

A planned city. Streets, boardwalks, lines, crossroads, buildings and numbers. I wasn't sure where the original old city centre was so, I started walking on "Main Street". A Post Office. A Newstand. A Starbucks. A restaurant owned by an italian family from the neighborhood. A park where young and old people were spending their beautiful saturday afternoon. Yet something was missing. Where were all the stores I remembered being there once? Probably moved to the suburbs. New structures have appeared. And many other left to their own destiny. New and decay. Gentrification and sprawl. Traffic. Yet I found human presence. Man made structures. Geometry and well thought out plans. Where am I going? Where is urbanism going? Photos by lilypenelope

Who are you? Where are you? What's your [hi]-story? I'm looking at you from above. The sky flaneur. And I'm wondering. And my mind is wandering. Where are you going? Towards the future? Back in the past? Or are you simply stucked in this present? Photo by lilypenelope