Andrea Pirazzini's photostream

It's late. I spent all my day reading black words printed out white paper. It's time for a red strawberry, with its wonderful green tuft on top and its lovely yellow freckles all over its body.

I stand up careless of the night time, noisily moving the chair. The floor is cold under my roly-poly foot. What is colder, black or white? I can't decide myself. Walking through the doors toward the kitchen this is my only thought. The floor should be black or white? Which color best fits its coldness? Actually it's a paradox. 90% of dump. I'm all sweaty. Sweaty is light blue, isn't it? Sweat is warm. I ended up matching the cold floor with black and the warm sweat with white.

There's a cup of strawberries in my hands. I don't remember where I grasped it. I was shoveling monochromatic clouds without thinking of polychromatic human being's needs.

Here we are. My beloved strawberries. It's a great feel under my hands. It's rough. Not the unpleasant rough of neurotic employees who have to process 20 client's order per minute. It's the rough you find in things made in Mother Nature's Garden. Nothing is perfect there. There's nothing to share with a strawberry built after 3 hrs of modeling inside of Photosoph. Its yellow dots are so..wait. They're not yellow! I'm holding it in my hand. The light is clear and sharp. The red strawberry is not red. The tuft is not green. They're monochromatic. Light and dark grey.

I'm confused. It smells like a strawberry. Its shape is so strawberrish. But there's not the feeling of a cool and carefree and exciting life as in a normal and colorful strawberry.

I taste it. It's poor, flat, boring, almost annoying, exactly as would be a whole life without a single color.

I go to bed, it's the best choice. Brooding about how would be a black&white life is not the best way to approach a comfortable night of sleep.
I close my eyes. It's very late. Now I can dream.
Fortunately I don't have to dream my life as it would be tinted of color, I can dream as it would be printed in technicolor if I want. Pretty interesting, pretty old-styled but not enough to be labeled as Black&White.

Good night.

Post Scriptum: thank you peacocks, you are as colorful as an interesting life should be.

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Sorry for the long absence, I'm going through my photographic archive and reorganize it.

Spring is waking up late, after a restless sleep.
She snores and the cloudes flicker, but it's not enough. They need something more to shake the water off themselves.
Spring is waking up slowly, after a long stretch.
She is pulling her edges from W to E, from N to S.
Spring is gently and softly opening her eyes, after a scented smile.
She is looking at my window, today, at 6.30AM. The light is coming through the curtains. The rays are not that yellowish-orange you can find in summer. The rays are that yellowish-orange you can see inside of you when your son smile at you for the first time, when you go to bed after a whole life spent exactely the way you want, when the sound of music and the colours in a picture and the oils on a canvas and the smells from the sitchen and the fingertips on a sculpture are perfetcly mixing each other.

I'm "yellowish-orangely" happy.

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L'America ci ha conquistati.

Tributo ad una grandiosa esperienza di studio negli Stati Uniti.

America has conquered us.

Tribute to a great studying experinece in the U.S.A.

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Collecting is a widespread hobby. Each person probably collected somthing at least once in their own life.
Since photograpchy has become digital is much easier and cheaper for everyone collect moment of life. A few years ago mobile devices started to have a camera feature that got better and better until it reached a pretty satisfying quality. Nowadays I assume everyone use his/her mobile phone to collect moments of his/her own life.
It's a great thing! Think about the opportunity you have now and you hadn't a while ago.
But...
...isn't it going a little too far?
I know you've read this kind of sermon dozens of times but this photo make me thinking about the emotions, the feelings, the excitement, the eagerness of what collecting meant 30 years ago. No eBay. No Amazon. No Google. No Instagram. No facebook. No twitter. No mobile phones.
When you found something you were looking for you got surprised, you suddenly opened your eyes, you may pucker your lips to stifle a smile (maybe the salesman gave you a particular coin without understanding its potential and you don't want to reveal it!), you had a new piece of your collection without any shortcut.

I have a comparison that you lived almost ten years ago (if you dwelled in the UE: the Euro were introduced with different representations on coins for each country; when the first foreign coins started spreading in your country you may set apart them because you were intrigued and beacuse it was something new; probably you stopped collecting foreign Euros a few months later but for a while I'm sure you checked the change in the hope to fine a missing coin in your collections! Isn't it?
To conclude, it's ok collecting your life but trynot to be sucked into the vortex of media sharing or the media way of making it easier. Take your time and live the everyday emotion with no hurry at all!

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Dashing through the snow
On a one-horse open sleigh,
Over the fields we go,
Laughing all the way;
Bells on bob-tail ring,
Making spirits bright,
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight
Jingle bells, jingle bells,
Jingle all the way!
O what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh

A day or two ago,
I thought I'd take a ride,
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank;
Misfortune seemed his lot;
He got into a drifted bank,
And we, we got upsot.
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle all the way!
What fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.

A day or two ago,
The story I must tell
I went out on the snow
And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by
In a one-horse open sleigh,
He laughed as there
I sprawling lie,
But quickly drove away.
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle all the way!
What fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.

Now the ground is white
Go it while you're young,
Take the girls tonight
And sing this sleighing song;
Just get a bob-tailed bay
Two-forty as his speed
Hitch him to an open sleigh
And crack! you'll take the lead.
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle all the way!
What fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.

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