A Lorenzo Ceva Valla and Mario Garofalo: hundreds of photos, a documentary.
roamed the room seem to smell the light, are the cat and the fox image. What is the cat and the fox is what we can not know. Between them they play perhaps switch roles: I now encircles the shadow, you rubbed him the light, inteneriscila, and make one laugh crystalline.
They sit in the shade, it is they who then the shape around the light as if it were clay, and make statues that speak with lightning in his eyes. From the shadows, watching others move into the light.
spy on them as if celassero secrets, spying on them in their most intimate details, spy on them in the form in the crease and taking the soul, spy on them without surprise and without malice, in love with the dance of bodies in space, and expressions that are painted on their faces.
The fox slips away from each other and no one notices his exploration Leste and cautious: a flash, the other is already shot.
The cat wins the sympathy: here, kitty, give me a close-up! And again caress the telephoto side, kitty! And another: the right profile, my mao, make me pretty!
The cat and the fox seem shadows in the shadow, nobody is ever appropriate to them, except when they themselves want: then all crowd around to fuss and assume postures.
Otherwise, from the throne of discretion, sink slowly into the flesh and spirit, seize the moment before it vanishes forever and make faces at the time. What was a crumb of oblivion becomes the eternal image: in His fixation is the suggestion of the dance and words.
And if the pictures are moving here is that life comes to us with a new dress, clean and tidy. What, in time, it was chaos and empty and full swing, now is a flowing elegant and expressive.
All applaud.
The cat and the fox took refuge in the silence of the shadow: from there the light is more powerful.
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