#villa bologna

[livesunique]

Villa Bologna, Attard, Malta

[heavensdoorways]

Villa Bologna, Attard, Malta,

Elliot Nichol Photography

[ferrari-desmosedici-wwe-fc]

UCL for them 🤩

[justisco]

aston villa in the champions league, deeply unserious

[polish-nt-gifs]

[stoopidamerican]

10 Teams to Watch in 2024

For the past several years, I’ve made it a goal to watch at least one game from every team in Europe’s top five leagues (though last year, I missed by two Ligue 1 squads). I’m off to a good start this season, ending 2023 having seen every Premier League team at least once, and over half of the teams in each of the other four leagues. But aiming for range means sacrificing depth, and with the new…

[tonisemitoni]

Il Tempo e le Anime - Parte prima

Di Quirico e Steria, i miei nonni paterni, non conosco tanto di più dei loro nomi dal sentore di un edificio vetusto, dismesso, ricoperto di licheni e muschi a cui si abbarbica una vecchia edera che, via via, ne ammalora le condizioni. Immagino ragionevolmente che vennero al mondo intorno al 1870, anno della Breccia di Porta Pia con cui fu decretata la fine dello Stato Pontificio e la…

[vincentblackbearmediallc]

The lively and sprawling city of Bologna is one of Italy’s historical centers and the capital of the Emilia-Romagna region. Everywhere you look in Bologna, you’ll see impressive structures, incredible architecture, and buildings rich in history. With all the amazing sites to see and places to visit, it can be tough to plan a trip as you work out which are the most important destination. To make this much easier for you, we’ve come up with a list of the best things to do in Bologna.

[mondomoderno]

🏛️ Este hermosísimo y decó portal de cementerio se encuentra en el centro-norte de la provincia de Buenos Aires, en la localidad de 25 de Mayo.

🔍 Hace años que busco información sobre su arquitecto, León Tumiati, y hasta el momento sé que nació en Ferrara, Italia, probablemente en 1895. Estudió y egresó como arquitecto en Bologna, llegando a CABA en 1929.

🏠 Para 1930 Tumiati realizó dos proyectos en Villa María que no se construyeron, pero en cambio, en CABA, en la esquina de Álvarez Thomas y Virrey Loreto construyó una vivienda colectiva con locales comerciales que aún muestra su firma.

🗓️ Volvamos al portal del cementerio de 25 de Mayo. Se inauguró el 31 de octubre de 1937 y ese día contó con la asistencia del gobernador Manuel Fresco, su esposa, su comitiva y el obispo de Azul.

😇 Dos ángeles en oración nos reciben y también una frase en el centro del portal: “Non omnis moriar" que significa “No moriré del todo” y es una cita del poeta Horacio. Una frase que va de la mano del sentimiento de armonía que transmite el arbolado del ingreso. Tumiati contó con la asistencia del escultor P.J. Ferrari y el constructor L. Ferraris. El frente sorprende por su art decó más cercano al de los cines de la época que a los portales monumentales e imponentes de Francisco Salamone.

🏰 Dentro del cementerio encontramos una capilla con una cruz decó, una oficina administrativa, numerosas bóvedas art decó, sepulcros antiguos y una galería de nichos. Al final de la calle principal, la que supo ser la morgue.

📜 También se hallan al menos dos bóvedas diseñadas por Tumiati junto a Ferrari, (8y9) también autor de las esculturas del frente del cine Teatro Premier en CABA.

📘 En 1944, Tumiati publicó un libro llamado Pensamientos sobre la arquitectura con ilustraciones de proyectos arquitectónicos de aires futuristas mezcladas con reflexiones propias(10).

💬 Frente a la capilla una frase nos recibe o nos despide: «Tú que ciego en el placer/cierras del alma los ojos/contempla en estos despojos/lo que eres lo que haz de ser/ven a este sitio a aprender/del hombre la duración/que en esta triste mansión/de desengaño y consejo/cada sepulcro es espejo/cada epitafio lección.»

📷2024

[bitchsister]

soooo I need luckycharms!AU Bucky and Curt on vacation somewhere.. slutty. your choice. john wants to show his boy from the bronx the world. maybe rome? like in EYY but this time they get to truly experience and enjoy it without the fear of doom & war & death ?!!? ya kno

Ohhhh you know I love a good Italy trip lmaooo. Cattonquick in Liguria was my favorite thing to write. Now I get to write Bucky and Curt being sluts? I’m so lucky. Ripping the nude beach idea right out of my Cattonquick fic and putting a Curtbucky twist on it.

Andiamo!

This request got pregnant with this other one ⬆️ it felt right so we went with it!!

HONORABLE MENTION;

Don’t read if you aren’t down with these: More vibrating butt plug, nude beach filth, ‘daddy’ is used twice, spanking, very very very very light dom/sub vibes if you squint but hardly, Curt is a cunt, abundant use of pet names

All it took was a few planted magazines on the coffee table for Bucky to quickly realize where Curt had wanted to visit, and the places he absolutely did not.

“Paris would be so fun, don’tcha think?” His legs were stretched over Bucky’s thighs who had been intently eyeing the score of the Brewers versus the Reds, dramatically huffing and puffing as the score continued not to work out in his home teams favor.

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky nodded, acting as though he was hardly listening but he was instead taking permanent mental notes. Paris is added to the possible itinerary, as is Aspen, Madeira, Lagos and Porto.

Then came ramblings of Barcelona, ripe springtime strawberries held between Curt’s lips as he flipped through pages filled with beautiful images of Casa Batlló, La Sagrada Famila, and the Picasso museum. “Look.” He turned the magazine around, pointing to the water. “Look how blue the water is, Ducky. We ain’t ever gonna see that here, huh? Closest we got is Coney Island.” He chuckled, again oblivious to Bucky’s mental note taking, the itinerary growing longer and longer with each new travel magazine Bucky hid around the house.

“Why do you got all these, anyway?” Curt grabbed the latest addition, a travel guide of Italy. “You got like thirty of the things.”

“I get ‘em for free at the office.” Bucky lied, and felt bad about it. “Guess Harding never cancelled the subscription when he was cruise shopping. I snag ‘em before he can realize they were even delivered.”

Curt hummed and nodded his head, puffing at the joint between his lips, all sprawled out over the cushioned window bench like a sunbathing feline. “I’d do anything to go to Italy.” He whispered, and alarms went off in Bucky’s head.

Bingo, bing, bingo.

Ding, ding, ding!

“My Nonna tells me stories about growin’ up in Bologna.” He hung upside down, the magazine held over his face as he multitasked like never before. A couple puffs, a flick of the page, ashing his joint, running his gorgeous mouth. “Oh, look!” He scrambled to his knees and sat upright again to turn the magazine around like it was his turn for show and tell. “Pompeii!” He flipped the page, his excitement growing. “Look! Tits! Dicks! Ass!” He pointed to all of it, the page covering the top rated nude beach in the country, Guvano.

And so, when Curt went back to his campus dorm room for a few days to hunker down and study for finals before summer break, Bucky did his own studying on hotels, which quickly had been switched to villas, vineyards, tours, beaches, restaurants, you fucking name it.

He had eventually enlisted the help of a concierge, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. He didn’t speak Italian and he wanted to know what was really worth seeing, according to the locals.

Come Friday evening, Curt looked and felt like he’d been beaten with two cinder blocks, trudging into Bucky’s stretch of hallway once he stepped inside.

He barely had any energy left to announce his arrival, quiet footsteps wandering into the kitchen where Bucky stood with his hip jutted, his phone an inch away from his face and a wine glass in the other as he read closely each step of the recipe he’d chosen to make for dinner.

Cacio e Pepe and scottadito. Earlier, he prepped for the perfect Caesar salad, ready to eat since he knew Curt would be starved to death after his finals.

“Hey.” A voice squeaked after the source had snapped an incognito photo on his phone of that version of Bucky — quiet, contemplative, focused.

“Jesus.” Bucky dropped his phone onto the counter. “Baby, you gotta make some noise or somethin’. I’ll have a heart attack.”

Curt huffed a laugh through his nostrils and shuffled the floors toward him to wrap himself around Bucky, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the mans chest. “Oh,” Bucky cooed, rubbing circles into Curt’s back once he’d sat down the glass of wine he’d become rather familiar with in the last hour or so. “How’d it go?”

“My brain.” Curt groaned, pressing his face into Bucky’s chest. “It hurts.”

Curt, as Bucky had quickly realized, was a goddamn genius and he knew just how to work it. Never to speak out of turn, always raw and honest and never pretending to be something he isn’t, that thick New York accent poking through even the most intelligent sentences Bucky had ever heard in his life.

Listen to this, listen to this. Alright. Here we go.

Curt stood in front of Bucky, reading part of his final presentation project as practice with one of Bucky’s sweaters hanging to his mid thigh and another joint rolled with pink papers between his teeth.

The potential of shape memory alloys in morphin’ wing technology with adaptive geometries that adjust in real-time could greatly optimize performance across various flight conditions.

Curt took another puff, his eyes locked on Bucky instead of the paper in his hand. He’d memorized it all and knew it by heart. After all, it was a touchy subject he felt passionate about.

Furthermore, research shows that this could increase fuel efficiency, reduce emissions, and could have a hand in improvin’ maneuverability.

Bucky was speechless, his jaw slack, hearts spilling out of his eyes and onto the floor. He was no help really, because every goddamn thing Curtis did was absolute perfection.

“Feed it.” Bucky held Curt to his chest with one hand while the other grabbed a plate, built an excellent Caesar, and offered it in front of a barstool at the island in the middle of the kitchen where half of it was still occupied by Bucky’s iPad, his knives, his cutting board and all of his oils and seasonings.

“You’re a real homemaker, you know, Egan.” Curt reluctantly detached himself from Bucky and plopped into the stool, stabbing forkfuls of lettuce and shoving it in his mouth while Bucky poured him a glass of some orange-ish hipster rosé, because the red shit gave him headaches and made him feel sleepy.

Good taste, Bucky would say.

You’re a natural at spending money.

“Yeah?” Bucky leaned against the island, pressing sweet kisses to Curt’s face despite the way he was feverishly shoving salad into it. “You gonna have me all kept at home while you make the dough, hm?” he was teasing, but knew once Curt got his foot in the door at a job after graduation, he’d be making his own natural hipster wine budget.

Big time.

“You think I will?” Curt murmured through a full mouth, booping noses with Bucky who nodded.

“Obviously, baby. No other choice, I fear.” Bucky watched intently as Curt sipped his wine, giggled, blushed, rolled his eyes. “How you feelin’ about the final?”

“Dunno.” Curt shrugged, watching Bucky continue on his prep for dinner and dessert. “I did good on the presentation part. It’s the fuckin’ multiple choice that I get so fucked up on. I’m indecisive! The shit’s outdated — how long they been makin’ us poor brain dead fucks fill in some bubbles, ya know?” He gulped more wine from his glass, “Like, since the dawn of time, I bet. And ain’t that shitty? You’d think they would—“

A red envelope was plopped in front of him, sealed with wax.

“What’s this?”

Bucky shrugged, sipping his glass of wine nonchalantly. “Dunno. Found it. Think it might be yours.”

Curt gave him a look of confusion, shaded with hints of brattiness and sass.

Bucky could eat him up.

His fingers deftly peeled the envelope open, his eyes taking in the words that he could hardly comprehend. “Italy?” He whispered, his heart sinking to his gut. “You’re kiddin’, Bucky..”

“I was going to wait until we got your score back from the final. But I know you’ll pass and I just couldn’t wait.” Bucky braced himself for Curt’s suddenly energized squealing and jumping and screaming and hooting and kissing and licking and all of it.

So. There they were, beach Guvano, the very same one in the magazine Curt had brought with him to compare and contrast magazines versus real life — so far, not a single thing had disappointed him.

“How’s it look?” Bucky asked from beside Curt, sprawled out on their beach blanket as he shoved sweet grapes into his cheeks.

“Less people here than in the pictures.” Curt had stripped down, of course, as he typically found any reason at all not to wear clothes at any time, no matter the location. “But I like that. ‘Cause some of these people in here shouldn’t be seen with clothes on.”

Bucky swatted his thigh, a dumb grin tugging his lips. “Bad boy. Be nice.”

Curt smirked and rolled onto his belly and closer to Bucky who still wore his skimpy little black speedo that he purchased simply to fit in with the rest of the Europeans.

American swim trunks didn’t feel authentic.

“You gonna lemme see the rest of ya?” Curt pressed a kiss to Bucky’s unbelievably tan, warm, sweaty neck. “Or you gonna be a perv?”

Bucky shrugged, scrolling on his phone in his left hand, his right buried deep in Curtis’ loose brown sea-salty waves and occasionally grabbing more grapes to chomp on. “Do pervs keep their swimsuits on at nude beaches?”

“Yes, actually.” Curt nodded, wagging his little ass once a warm breeze had tickled over it, his favorite plug between his sunburnt cheeks — the one that he’d worn to dinner with Bucky and Gale not long ago.

And Bucky had already started playing with him.

“I think the real pervs have vibrating plugs in their asses. In public.” Bucky gave Curt a look of mock-surprise once he’d flicked the level up to two, meeting Curt’s look of real shock with one of pure theatrics.

His mouth agape, his brows furrowed, his chin quivering as he moaned.

“Goddamn it.”Curtis cursed.

“Feel good?” Bucky whispered, the shade from their umbrella almost hiding them from the rest of the beach where the closest visitor seemed about thirty yards down the shoreline, minding their own business with their tits out. “S’your favorite one, isn’t it?”

Curt nodded quickly, his gaze softening into little horny feline slits, thick black lashes practically fluttering over his own pink cheeks, the freckles over the bridge of his nose accentuated by hours spent outdoors sipping wine or cappuccinos and eating all the finest culinary in the city. “Mhm.. M’favorite. Yeah.” He spluttered, practically drooling already.

Bucky laid his phone on his chest, reaching forward to caress his sweet boys soft cheeks instead, gathering the moisture from Curt’s wet lips onto his thumb and licking it clean. “God, you’re so fucking sweet.” He fawned, admiring again a practically frozen Curtis who whimpered softly in response.

“C’mere, my baby.” He hooked a hand around Curt’s waist and pulled him closer, the top half of his body resting over Bucky’s chest while the bottom involuntarily rut against every warm gust of wind with his ass or the blanket atop the soft sand with his cock.

Curt’s lips had found Bucky’s fingers, sucking them like he would his cock, or Gale’s, whenever their schedules aligned these days. “I passed my exam.” He breathed, pulling away from the hand he held with both of his own, half the size of Bucky’s. “Gotta ninety.”

Although he was expecting a one hundred or more including the bonus questions that saved his ass, he was nowhere near unhappy with where his GPA stood going into his second year.

Bucky lit up, of course, kissing him like it could be their last. “I fucking knew it.” He whispered between kisses. “My fucking genius boy. God, you’re so fucking smart. It’s so sexy.”

Bucky would eat him if he could.

Carry him around just like that, wherever he went, there Curt would be.

“What can I say?” Curt grinned, lips drenched in shared saliva. “Somebody besides J.Lo has to make a name for the Bronx.”

Bucky snarled a laugh. “Christ,” he chased the moan that escaped Curtis into his own mouth to devour it. “Better graduate early, then.” He teased, his hand grabbed again and the fingers enveloped once more in the soft hallows of Curt’s cheeks that grew pinker by the minute.

He wiggled his ass again against the plug that was stuffing him, eventually moving to sit on his folded legs and rut against his own heel, Bucky’s gaze watching all the while beneath a pair of sunglasses with rather transparent brown lenses.

Curt loved to be watched.

He loved, so very much, to be the center of Bucky’s world.

He’d put on little shows for him, all sweaty and panting and begging for it. He’d become a mess, held together by prayer alone at the altar he worshipped so reverently - theirs — their love, their passion, their unbridled blazing hearts that had morphed together somewhere along the way, or perhaps in lifetimes before this one.

This love, the one that gushed so unabashedly, was the reason Bucky was able to stomach the sight of Gale between his baby’s legs, or the way Curt sucked on his fingers while Gale fucked all of his courtroom rage out of him, his pretty blue eyes in the back of his head.

Whatever they did with Gale was an extension of their love, yes, but it would never get between it.

Could never harm it.

Bucky caressed his parted thighs but didn’t dare to touch Curt’s cock that leaked sweet little milky white droplets down his smooth shaft, a sight to behold since so much was typically impossible without a belly full of Bucky’s cum. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. Getting yourself all messy.” He whispered.

Curt was aroused beyond reason — every one of his milder kinks (amongst many others that wouldn’t be appropriate beneath the blue sky) were being fulfilled. Bucky’s eyes on him, sweet little words muttered in praise and adoration.

The sun on his shoulders, the sea breeze sending shivers down his spine.

His bent legs spread wider until he was sat between them, his ass plopped onto the beach blanket which he ground himself into. “Look’it what you done to me, daddy.” His voice was low and rasped through breathy gasps and moans, “I want your big cock in me so bad.” He chomped his teeth at Bucky, proving to be all bark and no bite.

Bucky hummed, ignoring the rumble of thunder that hung above their heads, and his cock that stiffened so much his Speedo struggled to conceal it. “Not here, honey.” He adjusted his sunglasses to sit perfectly nestled in his brown curls, his usually loose waves tightened and accentuated from the saltwater still in it from that morning. “Laws still exist in Italy, you know. I looked it up.” He had no reason to study European law, but for this, he did a little research.

“But —“ Curt whined, his palms flat against his thighs as he rode the plug like he would Bucky, feeling the intensity of the vibrations kick up a notch when Bucky flicked a little green bug off his phone screen, the notch set to its maximum which they’d never done before. Especially not after sitting on a three for so long.

Curt hardly knew what to do with himself, the fire in his loins growing and growing, just like the storm cloud that hung above their heads. “Too much — I can’t —“ he panted, scrambling to reach between his legs and get rid of it but Bucky abruptly stopped him.

“Ah, ah.” Bucky tsked, “Don’t you dare.” He pressed gentle kisses over Curt’s knuckles that held onto him like a lifeline, tight white and shaking.

“Please,” Curt whined, looking between his legs and down at his own cock that had yet to reach its climax but continued to trickle with a steady stream of excitement and arousal, toes curling as he squealed.

“You gonna come?” Bucky sat up, then. He thought maybe he was going to witness history — Curtis Biddick making himself come without being pumped full of it first. “Oh, honey. You’re so close. I can see it. Fucking look at you.” Scrunched nose, back arched, nails digging into his own thighs. “Make a mess, baby. I’ll clean you up.”

Curt huffed and puffed, their umbrella swaying in the wind and a drizzle of rain peppering his warm shoulders. “I’m g’na come.” He said through rapid huffs of breath.

“Give it to daddy, baby. C’mon.” Bucky was doing that sexy little thing he’d do. He’d pout his lips and mutter filthy encouragement through a clenched jaw. He grabbed Curt’s cheeks and severed their gaze, instead redirecting his attention down to his own cock. “Watch with me.”

Curt was wailing, watching his body react instinctively to everything happening to it but the closer he crept, the lighter he felt the vibrations becoming until they were gone completely.

And then came the torrential downpour.

“What happened?” Bucky asked once Curt began cursing, pulling his hands away from their restrictions in Bucky’s grasp to pump himself but there was hardly any hope in it.

“It fucking died!” Curt was angry.

He pulled the thing out of him and tossed it harshly into their beach bag, pulling on his so very American swim trunks and his Blink-182 tshirt. “Fucking bullshit goddamn technology, Bucky! I could make a better fucking goddamn fucking thing than that — fuck!” Curt was still panting but every other sensation he felt only a moment ago had been so abruptly ripped away from him.

“Well do it, then.” Bucky grumbled, sitting up and gathering their things as the storm raged on and Curtis stood with his arms folded, clearly pouting and being no help at all. “If you’re so fucking disappointed. It’s your job to charge it, Curt. It’s going in your ass, after all.”

Bucky rummaged for the keys to their rental car, soaked by the rain but still looking so rideable despite Curt’s suddenly horrendous attitude. “But you’re the one that fucks the battery!” He waved his arms, “With your fucking bullshit!”

Curt was left there, standing in the rain while Bucky made a beeline for their big Audi SUV that was similar in size to Bucky’s Range Rover, but he’d made several comments about maybe thinking about switching to something a bit more like this back home. “If you’re going to drain the battery, I’m just fuckin’ sayin’ you should also be held accountable for chargin’ it, too.” His voice followed behind, catching up eventually.

Bucky had opened the passenger door for Curt to get in before he even made it back over to the car, hoping he’d curl up for a nap and fall asleep before Bucky was done loading up the car again.

He couldn’t be so lucky.

“You still runnin’ your mouth?” Bucky furrowed his brows, shaking sand out of their beach blanket before folding it neatly.

“Yes!” Curt whined, wanting to fucking cry. Bucky wasn’t hearing him — he wasn’t understanding. He was so, so fucking close. He felt the butterflies wake up in his belly, his heart hammered in his chest, his legs felt like they’d turned to goo.

And then nothing.

“You aren’t listenin’ to me!”

Bucky closed the trunk before he sauntered to Curt, his neck craned downward to look at him. “Bend over.” He pointed to the passenger seat, voice stern but steady.

Sharp, but buttery smooth around the edges.

Curt stuttered for a moment, “I — Bucky,” but suddenly realized it would be his pleasure to do just that.

A silence settled between them as they stood in the rain, their narrowed gazes in a standoff until Curt backed down and draped himself over the leather interior, his trunks pulled roughly below the plump curve of his ass that fucking jiggled when he spread his legs a little, perking his ass out for Bucky to spank.

“Make it a good one.” Curt quipped, his tone almost bordering mockery. “Or it���d be a shame you bent me over at all.”

Bucky had been a little pissed off by that one, but knew whole heartedly that had been the exact point — Curt knew what he was doing.

The buttons to push.

The buttons he licked with his tongue and bit with his canines until he drew blood.

The buttons he knew all too well.

A loud and heavy handed crack left a vivid and splotchy pink handprint over the delicious and a little bit sunburnt strawberry milky white skin of Curt’s right cheek, his knuckles bitten as he whined.

“I want an apology, Curtis.” Bucky bent over his body, nipping at his ear. “Not fair to take your frustration out on me, is it?”

Curt rolled his eyes, grinning into the leather of the seat beneath him as they replaced the new car smell with their own. “Fuck you.” He mumbled, going to sit up again until a hand forced him back down.

“What was that?” Bucky shoved Curt’s stance wider with his knee, feeling a hand back again to spank Curt’s left cheek that time. He hardly tensed up at it, seeming to melt under each crack against his skin.

What am I gonna do with you, Biddick?

“Hm?”

Curt wasn’t so tough eventually. All it took was three more good whips of skin against skin before he was back to begging for it. “Just let me sit on it while you drive.” He begged, clearly unaware how unrealistic and — even moreso— unsafe that sounded.

They had a schedule that day that allowed little wiggle room and Bucky had warned Curtis of this plenty before they made the reservations that they did.

We’ll have no time to play in between, Curtie. You realize that, right?

Curt nodded his head, encouraging Bucky to confirm their reservations.

I’m not an animal, Bucky. I can control myself. Jesus.

Lie.

“C’mon. We can make it work. Please.”

Bucky checked his watch and shook his head. “We have the tour you wanted to do in an hour, Curtis.” He pulled Curt’s trunks up and manhandled him into his seat despite his resistance. “And we’re not going to be fucking late because of your bullshit.”

He closed Curt’s door and made way around the vehicle to his own where he hopped in and turned over the engine, blasting the AC against their warm skin as O Mio Bambino Care droned through the speakers.

“I’m sorry.” Curt whispered, leaning over the middle console and pressing kisses to Bucky’s bicep and shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said — I — I was havin’ an outburst.”

Those happened often.

Curt was simply a hothead, too used to acting out on his first instinct, which was always anger.

Gale was helping him work through this, but wasn’t always around to be the mediator.

Bucky wasn’t going to let him hide behind that excuse forever, though. “No, you weren’t.” He mumbled. “You were being shitty just to be shitty.” He rolled a window down and lit a cigarette. “I didn’t come either, you know.” He looked toward Curtis again. “You don’t hear me crying about it.”

Curt scrambled in his seat, crawling into Bucky’s and subsequently falling into his lap, his back smashing against the horn but he didn’t give a fuck. At the very least, it made Bucky smile. “You’re right. I’m shitty. I was bein’ shitty just to be fuckin’ shitty. And I’m sorry.” He inhaled the smoke Bucky shared with him, their lips slotting together perfectly.

Bucky could never deny Curtis the satisfaction of an accepted apology — this wasn’t a real fight. It was nothing of the sort.

It was a squabble, yes, but in the end, it wouldn’t make or break anything.

Except a few of Bucky’s fragile nerves.

“Still doesn’t mean I’m gonna fuck you, honey.” Bucky smirked, cigarette between his teeth. “C’mon, back in your spot. We gotta get goin’.”

[fashionbooksmilano]

L'Oriente di Pasolini

Il fiore della Mille e una notte nelle fotografie di Roberto Villa

a cura di Roberto Chiesi

Cineteca comune di Bologna, 2011,  120 pagine, 16x17,2cm, ISBN 9788895862446

euro 12,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

"Il fiore delle Mille e una notte" di Pier Paolo Pasolini, ultimo film della "Trilogia della vita", nacque da lunghi viaggi in paesi remoti e arcaici come l'Iran e lo Yemen. Viaggi che ebbero un testimone, Roberto Villa, un fotografo che condivise con Pasolini e la troupe alcune settimane sul set. Ne derivarono alcune splendide fotografie che restituiscono la magia figurativa e la fisicità popolare del film più visionario di Pasolini e ne arricchiscono la conoscenza con uno sguardo sul mondo arabo che lo ha ispirato. Questo libro riunisce una scelta di fotografie inedite di Villa che mostrano i corpi e i luoghi all'origine dell'immaginario pasoliniano e alcuni ritratti del poeta-regista al lavoro sul set, accompagnate da rare interviste e testi di Pasolini su una concezione antropologica, narrativa ed estetica che si contrapponeva allo "sviluppo senza progresso" del presente.

17/11/23

[mtonino]

21° Molise Cinema 2023

Paesi in lungo - Concorso opere prime e seconde

In concorso:

Come pecore in mezzo ai lupi Regia: Lyda Patitucci Interpreti: Isabella Ragonese, Andrea Arcangeli, Carolina Michelangeli, Aleksander Gavranic, Clara Ponsot, Gabriele Portoghese, Imma Villa, Tommaso Ragno, 100’

Disco boy Regia: Giacomo Abbruzzese Interpreti: Franz Rogowski, Morr Ndiaye, Laetitia Ky, Leon Lucev, Matteo Olivetti, Robert Wieckiewicz, Mutamba Kalonji, Michal Balicki, 91’

La lunga corsa Regia: Andrea Magnani Interpreti: Adriano Tardiolo, Giovanni Calcagno, Nina Naboka, Barbora Bobulova, Gianluca Gobbi, Aylin Prandi, Stefano Cassetti, Maksim Kostyunin, 88’

Margini Regia: Niccolò Falsetti Interpreti: Francesco Turbanti, Emanuele Linfatti, Matteo Creatini, Silvia D'Amico, Nicola Rignanese, Paolo Cioni, Aurora Malianni, Valentina Carnelutti, 91’

Piano piano Regia: Nicola Prosatore Interpreti: Dominique Donnarumma, Giuseppe Pirozzi, Antonio De Matteo, Antonia Truppo, Giovanni Esposito, Lello Arena, Massimiliano Caiazzo, 84’

I pionieri Regia: Luca Scivoletto Interpreti: Mattia Bonaventura, Francesco Cilia, Danilo Di Vita, Matilde Sofia Fazio, Peppino Mazzotta, Lorenza Indovina, Eleonora Danco, Elvira Camarrone, Maurizio Bologna, Tim Daish, Claudio Bigagli, Beth Mc Creton, 86’

Fuori concorso:

Mixed by Erry Regia: Sydney Sibilia Luigi D'Oriano, Emanuele Palumbo, Giuseppe Arena, Francesco Di Leva, Greta Esposito, Cristiana Dell’Anna, Adriano Pantaleo, Chiara Celotto, Fabrizio Gifuni, Adriano Saleri, 110’.

[luckyqueenreign]

I’m sooooo annoyed by this whole volume. Wtf was up with that. I guess yeah I rather Ozzy stick then twist. BUT HE AND GRACE ARE DONEEEE. Grace I have given her benefit of the doubt but she’s delusional. Like he will not still want you. He stuck with you but babe he will never be yours. And if he does not make it clear right after this that he wants us and does not want you. I am done. I will replay and pick Andy. If the casa boy changes after this then I’m just done with the season. I’m so tired this is worse then Nope. Noah actually liked Hope. Ozzy really does look like a player rn just like Marshall said and I hate it. Fucking fb. It feels so dumb Amelia’s partner twisted. It makes it feel less like it’s about us and more like it’s about her. Especially locking off Marshall to us, even though I don’t want him. It’s a steaming pile of shit. Grace and Amelia are the most annoying characters they ever made. If Grace could stop forgetting what we tell her that would be great cause either she’s forgetting we told her what we think of her an Ozzy or she’s being a bitch and doing it on purpose. Amelia pull me for one more chat, PULL ME FOR ONE MORE CHAT GIRL AND LETS SEE WHAT HAPPENS. Ima become an only child.

Unnecessary bologna this volume

So I do think Marshall is going to become available as an LI as the season progresses. I dont think hes fully locked off and sticking with Amelia. I fully believe he used her to get into the villa and is going to give us a Finn sort of confessional at some point this season (idc bc I dont want him either...but I am excited for the drama lmao)

I think the main issue this season is fb doesnt consider any of our choices into their storytelling. It's their story and they're writing it more like a book rather than an actual game with choices that matter. bc why in her right mind would Grace ever think her and Ozzy were going to rekindle anything??? and why is Amelia whispering about how I like Ozzy in front of Grace, when Ozzy and MC have BOTH made it so obvious theyre into each other?? Every single interaction with Elliot I told him I didnt like him, felt no connection and did not want to be with him and he still coupled up with us. who would ever do that irl??? same with Grace she saw MC kiss Ozzy on the way out and this man told her he had feelings for MC and shes still out here with blinders on?? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE.

[garadinervi]

Aldo Tagliaferri, Presentimenti del mondo senza tempo. Scritti su Emilio Villa, Edited by Gian Paolo Renello, Graphic Design by Susanna Doccioli, «Fuori catalogo», Argolibri, Argo, Bologna, 2022

[carmenvicinanza]

Irma Bandiera

https://www.unadonnalgiorno.it/irma-bandiera/

Passeranno i morti, ma resteranno i sogni.

Irma Bandiera, nome di battaglia Mimma, è stata una partigiana italiana seviziata, accecata e trucidata dai nazifascisti, una delle eroine simbolo della lotta di tante donne impegnate nella Resistenza.

Nacque l’8 aprile 1915 a Bologna, in una famiglia benestante, suo padre Angelo era capomastro edile  oppositore del regime durante la dittatura. Sua madre si chiamava Argentina Manferrati e aveva una sorella di nome Nastia.

Aveva anche un fidanzato, Federico, militare a Creta che venne fatto prigioniero dai tedeschi dopo l’8 settembre 1943 e rimase disperso dopo che la nave su cui era imbarcato per il trasferimento in Germania venne bombardata e affondò al porto del Pireo. Vane furono le ricerche per ritrovarlo.

Iniziò ad aiutare i soldati sbandati dopo l’armistizio e a interessarsi di politica, aderendo al Partito Comunista.

A Funo, dove andava a trovare i parenti, conobbe uno studente di medicina, Dino Cipollani, il partigiano Marco che la spinse a entrare nella VII brigata GAP Gianni Garibaldi di Bologna.

Il 5 agosto 1944 i partigiani uccisero un ufficiale tedesco e un comandante delle brigate nere. Cominciò una tremenda rappresaglia che vide coinvolta anche la partigiana Mimma, che aveva trasportato delle armi alla base della sua formazione a Castel Maggiore. Venne arrestata mentre si trovava a casa dello zio, la sera del 7 agosto e rinchiusa nelle scuole di San Giorgio,  isolata dal resto dei suoi compagni. Venne poi portata a Bologna dove, per sei giorni e sei notti venne ferocemente seviziata dai fascisti della Compagnia Autonoma Speciale, guidati dal Capitano Renato Tartarotti, che arrivarono ad accecarla con una baionetta, per farla parlare, ma lei non ha mai rivelato i nomi delle sue compagne e compagni di lotta.

I familiari la cercarono dappertutto sperando di trovarla in vita, la giovane resistette alle torture fino alla fine ma venne fucilata e poi finita con alcuni colpi di pistola al Meloncello di Bologna, nei pressi della casa dei suoi genitori, il 14 agosto 1944.

Il suo cadavere venne lasciato esposto per un giorno intero, come monito, fino a quando i parenti non riuscirono a riprenderselo.

Portata all’Istituto di Medicina Legale, un custode, amico della Resistenza, scattò le foto del suo viso devastato dalle torture.

In suo onore, una formazione di partigiani operanti a Bologna prese il nome Prima Brigata Garibaldi  Irma Bandiera. A lei venne intitolata una brigata SAP (Squadra di azione patriottica) che operava nella periferia nord di Bologna ed un GDD (Gruppo di Difesa della Donna).

La federazione bolognese del PCI il 4 settembre 1944 pubblicò un foglio volante, stampato in clandestinità, nel quale si ricordava il senso altamente patriottico del sacrificio di Irma incitando i bolognesi a intensificare la lotta contro i nazifascisti.

È sepolta nel Monumento Ossario ai Caduti Partigiani della Certosa di Bologna ed è ricordata nel Sacrario di Piazza Nettuno e nel Monumento alle Cadute Partigiane a Villa Spada.

A Bologna, nella via che porta il suo nome è deposta una lapide che reca scritto: “Il tuo ideale seppe vincere le torture e la morte. La libertà e la giovinezza offristi per la vita e il riscatto del popolo e dell’Italia. Solo l’immenso orgoglio attenua il fiero dolore dei compagni di lotta. Quanti ti conobbero e amarono nel luogo del tuo sacrificio a  perenne ricordo posero”.

Il suo assassinio, compiuto anche per scoraggiare pericolosi tentativi di emulazione, finì per produrre l’effetto contrario e tante donne seguirono il suo esempio e si unirono alla battaglia per la liberazione dell’Italia.

Ci sono strade che portano il suo nome in vari comuni italiani.

Riconosciuta partigiana alla fine della guerra venne decorata con la Medaglia d’Oro al Valor Militare, insieme ad altre 18 partigiane.

«Prima fra le donne bolognesi a impugnare le armi per la lotta nel nome della libertà, si batté sempre con leonino coraggio. Catturata in combattimento dalle SS. tedesche, sottoposta a feroci torture, non disse una parola che potesse compromettere i compagni. Dopo essere stata accecata fu barbaramente trucidata e il corpo lasciato sulla pubblica via. Eroina purissima degna delle virtù delle italiche donne, fu faro luminoso di tutti i patrioti bolognesi nella guerra di liberazione.»

“È nella Resistenza – ha dichiarato Marisa Rodano alla Camera dei deputati in occasione del 70° anniversario della Liberazione – che le donne italiane, quelle di cui Mussolini aveva detto ‘nello stato fascista la donna non deve contare‘; alle quali tutti i governi avevano rifiutato il diritto di votare, la possibilità di partecipare alle decisioni da cui dipendeva il loro destino e quello dei loro cari, entrano impetuosamente nella storia e la prendono nelle loro mani. Nel momento in cui tutto è perduto e distrutto – indipendenza, libertà, pace – e la vita, la stessa sussistenza fisica sono in pericolo, ecco le donne uscire dalle loro case, spezzare vincoli secolari, e prendere il loro posto nella battaglia, perché combattere era necessario, era l’unica cosa giusta che si poteva fare”.

[sayitaliano]

which city would you recommend visiting in northern italy in january? (there’s nothing i don’t like, besides skiing)

You can visit basically anywhere. Every city, even the smallest one, has something cool to see, something historic. Gonna mention a few I know better. but ofc it's more about what do you like and what you want to experience (the moment you know that I can be more accurate with my suggestion).

You can visit Turin, even more if you're insterested in something "esoteric" (there's the dark side of that city -with all the monuments and stuff- which is interesting, either if you believe or not in those things), not to mention it's close to the Alps if you want to take a trip there to just see the landscape or visit some castles.

In fact, if you go to Aosta and the Aosta Valley, you'll have loads. You don't have to ski at all, you can enjoy the villages, the castles, the history of the city -Aosta- (at the end of january 29th-31st there's also a very famous street market in which you can buy wood stuff and typical food and much more), maybe visit some vineyard or cheese/ham producers (many offer guided visits+free tasting), or just go up on the mountains and walk on the snow to a close cabin to enjoy the view and some warm chocolate...

In Piedmont there are also the Langhe, which are hills basically but there are even more vineyards and things to eat (the food tourism there is really strong + there are nice villages and castles as well)

Another city is Novara: it's between Turin and Milan (by train is like 1 hour from Turin and 40 mins from Milan). It's surrounded by rice fields (many typical foods are made with it), it's close to the mountains (same thing I mentioned), it's close to hills (same as Langhe), it's close to the 7 lakes (between Piedmont and Lombardy) and a couple of them are pretty famous: Lago Maggiore (the biggest, so many interesting things to see like the San Carlo Borromeo statue -copied by the Liberty statue of NY-, the Castlli di Cannero -close to Switzwerland too- which are ruins in the middle of the lake but once were the customs, but there are also 3 famous Isole Borromee too which are so beautiful and the Isola Bella for example has a beautiful park+villa) and the little Lago d'Orta with the even more little precious Isola di San Giulio and the monastery (but also an amazing history). I love the vibe there. But back to Novara, it has lot of history too, and a very interesting Cupola di San Gaudenzio which used to be the tallest brick Cupola buildt on a church (it doesn't touch the ground) of the whole Europe (made by Alessandro Antonelli: there's a special tour about him to see all his amazing works) and ofc you can go up on the Cupola too and see the landscape and Milan from there (if the weather allows ofc... fog is there very often). Oh, the patron Saint is celebrated with street markets on january 22nd (cool enough, Aosta is a couple of hours away, js). lol im not selling away this town i swear...or maybe i am but ik it well<3

And yes, Milan but... do I have to talk about Milan? The Duomo, the Castello Sforzesco, La Scala and so much more. Sondrio, which is up near the mountains but it's a cool city too. Bergamo, divided into uptown and downtown (meaning the first is up on the "hill"). Mantova with all the museums to visit like Palazzo Te. Padova, again with the University history and the Cappella degli Scrovegni (Giotto's job). Venezia, and I think I don't have to add anything, lol But also Genova and the Cinque Terre (we're in Liguria: you're near the sea too), and Emilia Romagna with cities like Bologna, Modena, Riccione (which probably is more alive in summer?Idk): history, food, landscape (from the mountains to the sea)... Trento is a cool city too, and despite it being in Trentino, you can visit the city and the area around, and enjoy the landscape without having to go skiing

The Northern area as a lot to offer, it only depends on what you want to do (visit cities and their history, stay more in nature -and which kind-, do both, just eating and relaxing in a spa...) :) so if you want to drop another ask with a request, I'll gladly suggest something more in tune with you!