Armstrong, Sinatra, Elvis… they were so rent leaning against my walls as their voices swinging me in the cradle, I grew up with a stereophonic mother and with the attentive viewer father solely devoted to a project wich kept his hands busy: the Leica!
I have matured quite early, more instructed by the images that sang and delighted me in its figure, than by the figure of mother and father. I looked at them and gave them life beyond that moment. From the sweet looks between the trumpet chords to the charming chivalry beneath a hat, to the irreverence of Twist! I would like to have captured those moments, take them outside those walls, portray them in walls, magnify them and give them life in other shapes. I wanted to capture reactions and to be part of them, not allowing myself to languish, as he or she did, by the limits of our insalubrious loft in the suburbs of Philadelphia. One ordinary day she came out, as usual, and never came back.
She told me her story, how valuable and precious it was. Then she died, hunched over the table, dropping it for the first time.
I escaped a lot of things: childhood, confort, gangs, but I never escaped from dreams and from the top of my 15, I fell as if I were the King at first shot.
She was right, she was the greatest wealth she could have left me, the Leica did some miracles. I made racial riots into art, ethnic differences turned into rainbow, and natural disasters were filled with flashes.
I gave light to what it seemed dark, I became a part of the fragments I captured. I stole moments from a life I disclosed to the world and I kept in my world the unique moments. That summer I headed to Woodstock and what was supposed to be a job turned into my life! I lived a three days dream, I loved for a lifetime, I was divestod of flesh and soul.
Some years later, in the aftermath of fame, I was kidnapped from my heartthrob’s life to do an ADN test.
I did it, confident, because it was always me and the world and no commitment, no blames between us. Nothing belonged to me except for a few seconds and them everything blemished. Only the Leica and Eternity on a piece of paper without any record were mine.
I laugh now as he treats my wounds, the respected doctor, devoted professional.
Damn debauchery, made me lose its best moments, neglect its sorrows and joys. Now I laugh and see how ridiculous I was.
ADN test… ironic!
All I had to do was to look, without lenses, without filter, without shadows!
She is my best reproduction, my best shot!


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