STONE is what it’s made of.
We found St. Peter’s square to be a rock growing out of the water, settling on grand, but undecided as whether or not to fully emerge.
The Carnival trip was designed around shooting long exposure shots dressed as dark whirling Dervish on top of a canal bridge.
Pause for a blur of ingenious riot of costumes.
We awoke on a stone bench in the morning mist lost on the island of St. Peter’s. Carnivale was over. KB looked great in long johns and a tux shirt with the collar up and the french cuffs down to accommodate his lengthy arms. He carried himself like a dancer and when he stopped he looked as though he were posing.
Those images are vividly burned into my mind because the film had not advanced.
There isn’t proof any of it ever happening.