Water
Some stories arrive on foot. Others arrive through the people who choose to tell their own.
Within my own story I discovered something simple: the places I truly carry inside me always have water nearby.
Rivers. Lakes. The sea.
These images have kept coming back for years. Places that hardly change and go on living in me. And maybe that’s exactly why it feels natural to bring the people I love there.
Alassio is one of those places.
The Ciccione seafront. Warm focaccia. The budello, the narrow old street. The beach. The pigeons. The slightly sickly palm trees. The smell of the sea on off-season days.
Small things.
And every time, without even noticing, I go back.
