Lorenzo & his humble friends

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool

Category: pictures

Pampeago, Lagorai, e Catinaccio

Ancient man

Ancient man

I took this picture the day before the Marcialonga in 2019, at the end of the Marcialonga Story in Predazzo. An anonymous athlete was resting under the sun and I brazenly took a photo of him. He didn’t mind then and I hope he won’t mind now if I feature him as a character on my blog.

Val di Fiemme

Pont de Bir-Hakeim

An iconic bridge, which I did not really know until I took the photo below. It crosses the Seine, just steps away from the Tour Eiffel, passing through a small island, the Île aux Cygnes. I sent the photo to Erik, who gave me a few tips on how to improve it. Here is what he said:

A couple of things that comes to my mind. To attract more attention to the silhouettes, it would be best to have just that in the frame. Everything else is a bit of a distraction. In order to get that, you have to have a telelens or crop the picture. Here the blackness of the bridge is the border of your photo, the frame. Alternatively, if you don’t have a telelens, or you really like the bridge to be recognized by the viewer as a bridge, then it is best to show the whole situation. As a viewer I get an understanding of what is going on. And most importantly, some perspective. Because of the foreground, like the tree and the bushes down low. When you only want the silhouettes in frame, there is less need of perspective. Because there is less distraction.

I followed this advice, cropping the picture as suggested. This is the result.

Palpable

My first hike of November 2020, together with Jimmy and Luca. It could have been worse.

I would like to add to these photos another one that I did not record on my camera. In the picture there would be three middle-aged men sunbathing at the crossing between Rue Norvin and Rue du Mont-Cenis: this year, the area around the Sacre Coeur looks like a little village on top of a hill. So very different from any other time of the year, when the mass of tourists gives it a different look. A few youngsters drink wine at the window. Elderly joggers stroll in the street.

Neuchâtel – Geneva

The Italian comedian Maurizio Crozza sometime imitates a bogus politician, former representative of the Italians abroad elected in Switzerland. When he does, he uses as a background an idyllic Swiss landscape. It is not the usual Alpine view; instead, it is a hilly, blossoming, countryside with vineyards and small houses here and there.

This is what I think of when I look outside the window of my train, just outside of Neuchâtel heading towards Yverdon-les-Bains and then Geneva or Lausanne.

Fermata valida solo la domenica

I took this picture in Panzano, where I went for a feast with Arianna, Ludi, and Matteo. We ate at Dario Cecchini‘s, who really knows how to throw a big party every week. It was a sunny, windy day of Autumn. It felt strange to reach Panzano by car: I used to go there by bike.

Bis di montagne

Saturday morning with my bike: Bevaix, La Fruitiere (coffee break in mountain hut), Le Soliat (lunch break with a rösti at La Baronne: remember to come back in here with some good friends/family), Couvet, Gorge de la Rose.

Sunday: Jean-Thomas, Alexis, and Jeremie. The latter is a living example of how not to dress when hiking in the mountains: I love papa Francesco t-shirt with a fresh coffee stain, sneakers, light socks, and Gandalf-like stick. Broc, Dent de Broc (1828), la Trême, Gruyères (Jean-Thomas says it looks “just like Tuscany” because you can clearly see “la mano dell’uomo“: I am not convinced), Fribourg, Marco, Deg, Thibaut, fondue moitié-moitié, fondue fribourgeoise, and double créme.

 

 

 

Libera uscita

Bois de Vincennes, Bois de Boulogne, Asnières-sur-Seine, rue de l’Abreuvoir.

Luca, Marco, Estelle, Marco, Jimmy, Francesca, Jean Thomas.

Roccia solitaria

Vicino a Scex Rouge, Glacier 3000, con Yvan, Jean-Thomas, Maria e Quinn, ultimo fine settimana prima della quarantena (8 marzo). Dietro alla roccia c’è un rifugio, talmente piccolo e nascosto che non riesco più a ritrovarlo nemmeno su Google.

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