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oil on canvas' 2000, sold
Collocata in alto, inaccessibile, la finestra diventa un "sogno verticale", un'apertura verso l'alto che suggerisce una fuga dalla realtà quotidiana e l'accesso a una dimensione fantastica.
A Portofino, quando la sera ammorbidisce i colori, il borgo sembra trattenere il respiro.
Le facciate si accendono di rosa e di rosso, come se il giorno lasciasse un ultimo saluto sulle pareti.
La barca ascolta il mormorio dell’acqua che riflette ogni sfumatura, trasformando il silenzio in una storia lenta, fatta di luce, mare e attese.
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In Portofino, as evening softens the colors, the village seems to hold its breath.
The façades glow in shades of rose and red, as if daylight were offering a final farewell.
The boat rests listening to the whisper of reflections, turning silence into a slow story woven from light, sea, and quiet anticipation.
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8133 HDR
...... that you are worthy
Don't listen to your doubts.
Listen instead to the hearts that feel a little lighter simply because you are in their lives.
Your worth does not diminish just because you cannot see it today.
Sometimes, the heart needs a little more time to believe what has always been true.
© 2022 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
"Things Ended"
Engulfed by fear and suspicion,
mind agitated, eyes alarmed,
we try desperately to invent ways out,
plan how to avoid
the obvious danger that threatens us so terribly.
Yet we're mistaken, that's not the danger ahead:
the news was wrong
(or we didn't hear it, or didn't get it right).
Another disaster, one we never imagined,
suddenly, violently, descends upon us,
and finding us unprepared -there's no time now-
sweeps us away.
Konstantinos P. Kavafy /1911/
Due ore alla magia della Sagra del Fuoco di Recco. La città si prepara, avvolta da una calma luminosa che riflette sul mare come un preludio di emozione. Le luci dei quartieri si specchiano sull’acqua, creando un mosaico dorato e verde che anticipa la notte dei fuochi. L’attesa cresce tra le colline e il porto, dove ogni riflesso sembra trattenere il respiro prima dello spettacolo.
Two hours before the magic of Recco’s Sagra del Fuoco. The town glows in tranquil anticipation, its lights shimmering across the sea like a prelude to wonder. Neighborhoods sparkle on the hillsides, mirrored in the water as golden and green mosaics that foretell the night of fireworks. The air hums with expectation, every reflection holding its breath before the show begins.
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1478
Tra le scie del cielo e il respiro del mare, la luce si ferma un istante prima di scomparire.
L’orizzonte trattiene il giorno, come un segreto che non vuole essere detto.
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Between the sky’s fading trails and the sea’s slow breath, the light pauses for a moment before disappearing.
The horizon holds the day, like a secret not yet ready to be spoken
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7838.
From the recreational area at the Eastern end of Holstebro Lake (Vandkraftsøen) and Tvis Watermill (Tvis Mølle), Denmark - January 23, 2022.
"I Went"
I didn't restrain myself. I gave in completely and went,
went to those pleasures that were half real,
half wrought by my own mind,
went into the brilliant night
and drank strong wine,
the way the champions of pleasure drink.
/poem by Konstantinos P. Kavafis '1913/
Shot on a short sunset trip on a rather windy (and quite cold) night at Toftum north of Struer, Denmark - April 09, 2020.
Give yourself the time you need in your life, organize your thoughts,
Your wishes and feel them.
© 2022 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
BARBAGIANNI - Dopo il silenzio
Una presenza sospesa, scolpita nella luce morbida.
Nel suo sguardo, la quiete che precede il volo.
Poi – un battito d’ali, leggero come un sussurro –
e il silenzio si fa movimento.
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Barn Owl (Tyto alba) - After the Silence
A suspended presence, carved in gentle light.
In its gaze, the stillness before flight.
Then – a wingbeat, soft as a whisper –
and silence turns into motion.
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9307
In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren't there to be found -
or at least I can't find them. And perhaps
it's better if I don't find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?
/poem by Konstantinos P. Kavafis/
They stood there long after the light began to fade.
This image captures a moment of quiet solitude a single figure silhouetted on a wooden bridge, bathed in the last golden glow of the day. The sun slips low, casting long shadows through the slats, painting the water with warmth that doesn’t quite reach the heart.
There’s no movement. No sound. Just the hush of a day ending and the weight of something unsaid. The bridge stretches out, but no one crosses. The light touches everything except the space between.
It’s a portrait of being alone—not in the world, but in the feeling. A place where memory lingers, where silence speaks, and where the sunset doesn’t comfort—it just watches.
My latest photography is now available for purchase at crsimages.pixels.com/, featuring prints, framed art, and more from my curated collections.
A gale
striped all the leaves
from the trees last night
except for one leaf, left,
to sway solo on a naked branch.
With this example
Violence demonstrates,
that yes of course -
it likes its little joke
from time to time.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
art by Alice Alicja Cieliczka
This is not a "pretty photo"! It is an atmospheric poem…a symphony of contrasting values! It speaks of transitions, of ends that are also beginnings, of the heavy beauty of silence, and the profound melancholy that can sometimes feel more complete than joy. It doesn't merely capture a moment; it encapsulates an entire emotional spectrum, painted with the brushstrokes of dusk.
I took it in ultra-wide angle not to just expand the view; but to expand the emotional scale. The image captures the dramatic transition between day and night, where heavy charcoal clouds clash with a bruised orange horizon.
The sky of pale blues and fire, representing the thin line between reality and dreams, the silhouetted trees on the horizon stand like silent guardians of ancient secrets, and the water is a textured, reflective mirror that grounds the viewer in the present while pulling the eye toward the infinite horizon that represents the past.
Rather than a cheerful sunset, this scene is an exercise in moody elegance. It’s a poignant farewell full of weight and memory.. a visual invitation to the hour.. to enjoy the beauty that only exists in the low light.