Yesterday I got my camera, my dear inseparable camera, trying to fish urban moments along the streets of Rome in the dark of night. In the fascinating silent, broken only by a distand sound of scooter or car, other late people of the night, I was thinking by a poem of Raymond Carver, one of my most favorite writers
AT NIGHT THE SALMON MOVE by Raymond Carver
At night the salmon move
out from the river and into town.
They avoid places with names
like Foster's Freeze, A&W, Smiley's
but swim close to the tract
homes on Wright Avenue where sometimes
in the early morning hours
you can hear them trying doorknobs or
bumping against Cable TV lines.
We wait up for them.
We leave our back window open
and call out when we hear a splash.
Mornings are a disappointment.