Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Frank Iodice

who attends to her pear l necklace wi th proud jealousy. The pictures were of places that Ciepiela had recent ly vi s i ted and people he’d met , dressed in whi te l ike angry angel s. Ciepiela showed them off proudly, perhaps wi th the anxiety of someone who wanted to be esteemed for hi s trade. But Morel didn’ t know anything about photography, obvious ly he was interested in the subjects, not the compos i t ion, and even less the qual i ty of the images. “ To look at a photo from the correct perspect ive you have to turn i t ups ide down,” Ciepiela said, “and turn i t the oppos i te way, against the l ight , look, l ike thi s.” “Al l of them in black and whi te,” said Morel , “always in black and whi te, and i f you reverse them I don’ t see the faces anymore.” “You don’ t understand, i t ’s about the proport ions.” Under the high window wi thout handles in the photographer ’s off ice, there was the bar where they ’d met the young mars igl iese. That was how Ciepiela def ined her—Ciepiela who, f inal ly, seemed to calm down and col lapsed onto a low, leather armchai r, as he emi tted a di rty s igh, almost a belch, the gesture of a s l imy man, which Morel appreciated because i t meant one could start a di scuss ion.

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