I discovered fine art photography while living in the US. I read about, I discussed it with friends, but never really made myself working on any specific projects while I was living there.   Now, two years after moving back to Italy, my home Country, I find myself going back to all the pictures I have taken during those years. Surprisingly I found that, like pieces of a puzzle, some of the images seem to perfectly fit together in describing my personal view of living in the US, my own  american puzzle . 
 It was almost 96 degrees that morning when I pulled over along US 160, few miles east of Kayenta, AZ. I grabbed the camera from the back seat and stepped out under the sun. I felt beads of sweat beginning to roll down my face, some falling in my eyes, causing me to squeeze them shut, while I was trying to frame several jagged black peaks rising above the high plains of the Navajo Indian Reservation.  Suddenly, I felt nearly breathless. I lowered the camera and simply stood there, within myself the realization that those peaks were nothing else than the magma cores of ancient volcanoes, left isolated long after the softer surrounding rock eroded away. There I was, standing in front of an iconic Southwest image, of isolation, erosion and mystery, feeling inside a strong sense of communion, as if I were standing in front of the ruins of an ancient sacred site. A feeling that forever changed my way of seeing the landscape around me.