MY FATHER:

Taken prisoner by the nazi during the war he was imprisoned for eighteen months in a work camp in Germany.

He worked twelve hours a day with a daily ration of rotten bread.  Freed by the Americans on the 25th of April 1945

he came home; weighed  40 chiloes (approx 80 pounds).

He never gave up, even when he had to spend three long years in the hospital in Cortina d’Ampezzo- Italy- as he was victim of a rare disease  that constricted him with a cast  on his hospital bed for the three years he was hospitalized.

Eventually he contacted a local radio asking for company as he was feeling frustrated and lonely.  Maria Teresa was on vacation there in this beautiful dolomites’ sky resort and she heard the call. They met. They married. They had three children Bernardetta, Antonio, and I who was named after Padre Pio from Petrelcina whom my father met several times when he was still alive.

My father and my mother have been of great inspiration to my life as they believed in Life as a great Gift of The Creator. They tried to be parents and friends to all people they met, with the Love that comes from the Love of God.

(my fater in the pictures is the one in the middle of two other working on the wine cellar)

POPE JOHN PAUL THE FIRST AND POPE JOHN PAUL THE SECOND

I have the fortune of having met both in my life. John Paul the First, I knew better as “Papa Luciani” Albino Luciani was the Bishop of the Archidiocese of VIttorio Veneto in 1966 when I had my “confirmation” ceremony. I met him that very day and other times as a Bishop, later as the Patriarch of Venice. He inspired me for his semplicity and his fatherly manners.

Pope John Paul the Second- Karol Woytila-

Here in this picture he is shaking hands with people who gathered at his vacation place in Lorenzago- Italy.

I worked as a photojournalist and I was taught not to get involved with the pictures I was taking.

When he came my way I could not resist his positive “magnetism” and I dropped my camera to kiss his hand.

MARCELLINO GLORIA

Nobody knows him. He was a homeless ex- piano teacher who stationed outside the train terminal in Venice Italy when I worked there as a reporter for a year in 1985.

He was  a simple man with a great sense of dignity. He never asked me for money or drink. he just talked to me because I enjoyed listening to his story.

His beautiful face (seen here on the picture header of my blog and on the photo gallery as the man with a white beard) reminded me a lot of Santa Claus. He insipred me for his determination to live outside, in the cold, refusing any help that was given him, as a shelter or as aplace to stay. He preferred the outside (like I always did) and  the freedom sense that comes from him.

CHRISTO THE ARTIST WHO WRAPPED THE ISLAND IN MIAMI

I was driving my taxi down Miami Beach’s Collins Avenue in 1983 and before I got to the Haulover Shopping Center on 95th and Collins, I saw these eleven islands surrounded by a pink fabric. I stopped my cab and couldn’t get back to work for five days. Took thousands of photos. Eventually meditating on this event led me to the most important job of my life and I became a photojournalist. This event positively inspired my choices.

EVERGLADES BLUES

Rented a boat to take pictures of the alligators in the Everglades National Park in Florida.  I lost control and fell into the water. Surfaced I found the propeller of the boat slicing my arms and head.

Eighteen days in the hospital with the menace of losing my right arm in case an infection developed. I learned how important it was to have two legs, two arms, two eyes.

When eventually I was dismissed with all my limbs. I considered myself blessed for being all in one piece, and that experience positively affected me so that from that day I begun my best and mostcreative period of my life for taking pictures and enjoying the beauty of  being Alive.