CineTales

CineTales Everyday in awe of Planet Earth

Almost five months had passed since the last time I picked up my camera. Just a few kilometers from home, I’m lucky enou...
09/06/2026

Almost five months had passed since the last time I picked up my camera. Just a few kilometers from home, I’m lucky enough to have one of Italy’s most important bird sanctuaries, and honestly so much more, right in my own backyard: Oasi di Sant’Alessio.

I got there right at opening time, and by the time an hour and a half had gone by, I was already back home. I felt good about it too, happy with the shots I’d come away with, and just as happy that my body had held up. I’m still recovering from a complicated ankle surgery, so every bit of that walk mattered more than usual.

The benches scattered along the path made all the difference, giving me somewhere to sit and catch my breath before moving on.

That feeling of being alone out there in nature, listening to everything around me, waiting patiently for the right moment to click the shutter. Only I know how much I’ve missed it.

These are straight JPGs, touched up only slightly in Lightroom.

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Bolinas Beach, California. Golden hour, the kind that turns a whole beach into a sheet of hammered brass.I shot this bac...
08/12/2026

Bolinas Beach, California. Golden hour, the kind that turns a whole beach into a sheet of hammered brass.

I shot this back when I only captured in JPEG, which means the blown highlights up top are gone for good, no rescuing them in post. Normally that would drive me mad. But looking at this frame again, I've made peace with it. The overexposed sky isn't a flaw here, it's the point. It reads like memory does: the middle ground sharp and true, the edges bleached out by time and light until only the important shapes remain.

And what remains is everything. A father walking his son by the hand. A dog checking in on its people. Surfers hauling boards toward the last light of the day, shoulder to shoulder like they've done this walk a thousand times together. Nobody posed for this. Nobody needed to.

This is what I keep coming back to with community and family: they're not concepts, they're choreography. Nobody hands you the steps, you just find yourself in step anyway, boards under one arm and a toddler's hand in the other. That's culture. Not the postcard, the pattern underneath it.

Imperfect exposure, honest frame.

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Mojave desert, 2007.First roll with the D90. Giorgio driving, a tank of gas, no fixed plan beyond crossing the desert be...
07/30/2026

Mojave desert, 2007.

First roll with the D90. Giorgio driving, a tank of gas, no fixed plan beyond crossing the desert before nightfall.

The Joshua trees start appearing somewhere past the halfway mark, black shapes against a sky with nothing in it. Worth knowing: it isn’t a tree at all, it’s a yucca, and the name comes from Mormon settlers who saw in its raised limbs a resemblance to the prophet reaching skyward.

Giorgio had a copy of U2’s *The Joshua Tree* in the glovebox, the 1987 album that borrowed its name and its cover from this same stretch of desert. “Where the Streets Have No Name” came on somewhere near Barstow and stayed on repeat for the rest of the drive, the guitar building the way the horizon does out here, slowly, then all at once.

I shot this one in black and white. Colour felt wrong for a landscape this stripped down.

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A lighthouse you only earn after 313 steps down, and every one of them worth it.I want to tell you about the air here wh...
07/28/2026

A lighthouse you only earn after 313 steps down, and every one of them worth it.

I want to tell you about the air here when the fog stays away. That same fog that rolls in off the Pacific in late afternoon, pushes miles inland along the coast, then dissolves the next morning as the sun climbs. When it clears, this is what you get.

The golden hour here has no rivals. There’s a stretch in winter and early spring when gray whales pass just beyond this point on their migration, heading south in January, north again by March, sometimes with calves close to shore in the weeks after. I didn’t see any that evening. But I stood there knowing they pass through this exact water.

I’ve rarely felt I caught the light right. This is one of those rare times.

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Golden light on Ocean Front Walk, Venice Beach. Skaters all around her, spinning and dancing, clearly showing off their ...
07/20/2026

Golden light on Ocean Front Walk, Venice Beach. Skaters all around her, spinning and dancing, clearly showing off their skills for the tourists watching.

She was different. Eyes closed, face turned to the sun, moving in her own rhythm. Checkered brown and white trousers catching the late light, not caring who was watching.

Not my usual kind of shot, honestly. But I had fun chasing that one moment when she forgot the street was even there.

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There’s a spot on the Bay Area’s northern coast that earned a reputation all its own. Back in the ‘70s it became a haven...
07/17/2026

There’s a spot on the Bay Area’s northern coast that earned a reputation all its own. Back in the ‘70s it became a haven for the hippie community, an isolated corner between the hills and the ocean where life ran on its own rules, far from the noise of the cities.

That communal, slightly anarchic spirit never really left.

What happened next became local legend. Over the decades Bolinas started drawing curious visitors and tourists, and the residents, protective of their quiet, found a simple but effective solution: they kept tearing down the road sign with the town’s name, every time the highway department put it back up. Even today, coming in from certain roads, you won’t find a single marker. If you don’t already know where it is, you simply don’t get there.

I shot this photo late one afternoon, with dozens upon dozens of pelicans diving into the water to feed, a nonstop show of wings and splashes. Full disclosure, I could have done better: the autofocus motor on my Nikon D700’s zoom had just given out, and I ended up chasing those dives almost blind.

I’ll be back.

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Venice Beach Skatepark, California.Not the kind of subject I'd usually choose, and this hard, frontal light isn't the ki...
07/07/2026

Venice Beach Skatepark, California.

Not the kind of subject I'd usually choose, and this hard, frontal light isn't the kind I usually chase either. I shot it anyway, more focused on limiting the damage of my inexperience in that moment than on truly building the image.

I'm posting it here for exactly that reason. Not for the result, but for the honesty of admitting there's something to learn even from a shot that didn't fully come together. Stepping out of one's comfort zone often means just that: accepting an imperfect image for the sake of growing.

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Monument Valley, Arizona.4am, a storm broke over camp, violent and brief. By morning it returned, and the sky turned a h...
07/02/2026

Monument Valley, Arizona.

4am, a storm broke over camp, violent and brief. By morning it returned, and the sky turned a heavy grey that swallowed the mesas whole. Every traveler in the park waited it out at the visitor center, watching the same ceiling, the same doubt.

We didn’t wait. We drove back into the valley, betting on empty roads over uncertain skies.

Half an hour later, the sky tore open. Gold and copper light spilling through clouds still heavy with rain, and not another soul in sight. The Mittens standing alone, like the storm was performing only for us. Then just as fast, the clouds gave way to a blinding, empty-blue sun, and that’s when the caravan began pouring into the park. We met them on our way out, having already had the valley to ourselves.

Shot as .jpg, not RAW, back when I still feared running out of memory. So whatever this photo lacks in pixels, the story makes up for.

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The last photo from Japan. Not the most beautiful. Not the most original. But the one that challenged me the most.Steps ...
06/28/2026

The last photo from Japan. Not the most beautiful. Not the most original. But the one that challenged me the most.

Steps from Shibuya Crossing, in the glowing heart of Shibuya Yokochō, a covered alley where signs multiply, lanterns overlap, and light fights the darkness with warmth and shadow.

The technical challenge was real: bring out every detail without blowing the highlights, hold the depth without losing the atmosphere. A delicate balance, built patiently. It took time. Perhaps too much. But when I saw the result, I knew it was worth it.

Japan asks you to slow down. To observe. To wait for the moment when light stops being light and becomes story.

Has it ever happened that you were more proud of a difficult shot than a beautiful one?

Onward, with grit.

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One street. One afternoon. No detours.On Hanamikoji-dori, in the heart of Gion, from around four o’clock, the Maiko and ...
06/25/2026

One street. One afternoon. No detours.

On Hanamikoji-dori, in the heart of Gion, from around four o’clock, the Maiko and Geisha begin their passage: house to ochaya, ochaya to house, two or three quiet trips, eyes always downward, the world outside simply not permitted to exist.

I stayed on that street and let time do its work.

First, I made sure they always walked toward me. Not a glance. Not at me, not at anyone. Just the sound of wooden geta on stone, the rustle of silk, the elegance of absolute indifference.

Then I let them see the camera. A small nod. Something close to a bow.

After an hour or more, I tried a quiet gesture, a wordless question asking permission. Nothing. No signal. No opening.

I had almost made my peace with it.

Then, through the viewfinder, I saw it: she lifted her eyes, just a fraction. Brief. Furtive. A glance that lasted less than a breath.

The Nikon Z8 and its buffer did the rest.

I could have kept this in colour. The kimono was a vivid, striking blue. Her lips, vermillion. But the figure of a Geisha carries me to other times, distant ones, at least in my imagination, and black and white recreates that world more faithfully than any colour ever could.

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