Sometimes in clouds you can pick out likenesses of animals, objects, even the profile of a face; they are surprises you encounter now and then, looking into the landscape. To our eyes, such figures appear to be quite precise, although they are really uncertain, protean, far from being defined, without finished details and outlines. Nevertheless these suspended profiles seem close enough that the fluffy lightness of the clouds appear to contain the secret geometry of a drawing sketched by a skillful hand. I would like my work on the Italian landscape to seem a bit like these mutable drawings, lacking a precise cartography, without compass points, more about the perception of a place than about its cataloging or description, like some sentimental geography in which the itineraries are not marked and precise, buto bey the strange confusions of seeing.