In early 2012, after living 7 years in New York, my wife and I had to face an unexpected turn of events and we were forced to relocate, with our two beautiful and very American children, to our hometown of Rome. The amazing woman that she is, she went ahead setting up a whole new life for us, and I stayed behind, to wrap jobs and get the moving part done. It took me about a couple of months to leave my spiritual home behind.
After the family left, at first, I was all Chinese food and movies, but pretty soon I realized I was just a guy alone in the city of glass and I did the only thing that made sense to me: I started wandering its streets, headphones blasting, lost in a trance, talking to myself like a weird Italian madman.
I walked along the old paths, making up excuses with myself in order to go to "our" grocery store, or the toy store I used to take the kids to, or the coffee place, or the plaza where the hospital that we had to visit all too many times was located to.
I refer to that period of time as "the love parade", as I would look and shoot, focusing on other people wanderings, on their migration trails, looking for someone, or something to mirror my own loneliness and finally name it.