Arza fortress, and the enchanting views from her eyes.
Occupied, abandoned, restored, opened. So I dive into the Bunk’Art, and a lot of film rolls.
Humid tunnels. Darkness in the middle of the day. A silent cold breeze.
It’s there, and it’s timeless.
And it’s their own way.
Fragments of things that decay in time.
Decay. Mud, rust, humidity and raw salt. Vast artificial landscape. Bird sanctuary.
Spikes, triangles and edges. Dark concrete watching me on a cloudy day in the north.
Sounds that make perfect silence. Life and healing.
Silence and some rather peculiar motion. Calmness.