Memento (1)

For 10 days, I've been enjoying the green of the forest and the beautiful mountains surrounding the village where I was born.
I spent a few days away from everything and everybody, up on a hut in total solitude contemplating life and death. A young friend of mine just passed away a day before I left for my cave, leaving a wife and a young son.

On my return the church bells of the village announced the departure of another well loved man. He was for many decades the photographer of the village. Besides his love for beauty he truly loved the mountains. Many times in the past, on my afternoon stroll or very early in the morning, I would meet him in the forest, silently walking and respectfully greeting me, always curious of my adventures in India.

Then, I opened my email and found a message announcing that an old sannyasin friend of mine left her body, just as I was alone in the mountain. A friend that belongs to a part of my past - a part I love so dearly, the time in Poona as a disciple of Osho.

All three died of pancreatic cancer.

To Claudio Turri, Bruno Battisti and Ma Yoga Sudha I dedicate these pictures and this poem.

Memento (2)


The wind stopped blowing,

everything around is quiet,
even the birds hold their songs


peace is the sound of silence
and I will be resting here
back to earth with lilies
covering me,


I am home

finally at home.

Memento (3)

As Buddha said:
"Grief is the door to compassion."
Then pain takes an all new meaning.

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