Is the summer really ended?
Francesco Borelli
Summer clings to those Sundays of peaceful transition, suspended between the promise of the leaves that the wind will make fall and the sun's rays that warm the face. The lake is also a suspended place, which is painted of sea and mountain.
From the white stones beach, the pier pushes over the lake. The sound of the waves lapping the wood of the planks and poles is rhythmic and measured.
