[intangible memories]
... "come and shot my roses" Federica says to me ... and I go ... really beautiful the roses ... and endless bower of red roses, ... then she picks up from the ground a whitered rose and place it on a little gate ... I watch and while her hands is stretching undecided to take the rose again ... I shot ...
maybe the best shot of that day ... the useless, fallen and whitered rose but still charming as only a red rose can be ... her youg hand almost grazing the rose ... what will be for you, Federica, on the other side of that gate?
The gate is a place of passage it separates or join ... beyond the unknown ... memories ... intangible moments for us ... hopes for them, that have all the life ahead ...
