Giangiacomo Rossetti: The Unfun
Federico Vavassori
Milan | ItalyAs far as my language carried me away, splitting my thoughts from my voice, some images remained so solid, as if only one step removed from the real thing.
I wanted to approach another realm, but the world brought us even further beyond that. So some of my thoughts knotted up or repeated themselves - like looking in a mirror, I found myself running over so many paths already taken. Defeated, I could do little more than conjure those visions already close to me, a series of comforting thoughts. Some dear friends are portrayed here in the act of leaving—to face struggles and joys in places that belong to their past. And finally, even if briefly, I too am going back to my city.
As far as my language carried me away, splitting my thoughts from my voice, some images remained so solid, as if only one step removed from the real thing.
I wanted to approach another realm, but the world brought us even further beyond that. So some of my thoughts knotted up or repeated themselves - like looking in a mirror, I found myself running over so many paths already taken. Defeated, I could do little more than conjure those visions already close to me, a series of comforting thoughts. Some dear friends are portrayed here in the act of leaving—to face struggles and joys in places that belong to their past. And finally, even if briefly, I too am going back to my city.
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