Mother nature takes her visitors lying down, conducting business flat on her back. Her breasts, nipples dipped in snowy white powder, pointed straight up to the sky. Unlike The Dude, her mountains abide for nothing, no schedule of seasons.
It is hailing like holy fuck right now, and it is the middle of June.
Of course I forgot rolls of film down at Davide's. Of course.
We are waking up at 5, to accommodate nature's moody time table, and catch a glimpse of the famous 'pink dolomites'.
I am in charge of marching the Darling army. I like paints, painters, paintings, and painted things. I like photos and writing , boards with wheels, drums, typewriters and wheat beer. I like documentaries, 35mm, and video. Darling is mostly me, sometimes a multitude of others.
I like newspapers, black and white, and British humor. Airplanes are my resting place, and I'm still shocked anyone would ever rent me a car. I can name that artist like you can name that street. Tell me and I will forget, but I will remember later I promise. I pay attention.