“Chasing Beauty In Italy”

My “Chasing Beauty In Italy” BOOK

(The Second Edition, 2019 is available now!)

purchase here:
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THIS IS MY LOVE LETTER TO ITALY

(& to beauty, art, history, architecture, nature, slow travel, cuisine, & Romanticism!)

My bestselling travel book “Chasing Beauty In Italy”

NOW THE UPDATED SECOND EDITION FOR 2019 WITH 50 ADDITIONAL PHOTOGRAPHS, MEMORIES, MEMORIAL STORIES, ROMAN AND ART HISTORY, (CAFÉ, RESTAURANT, and ROMANTIC WALKS OF Rome GUIDE), EXPANDED MUSEUMS GUIDE, CINEMA AND TV IN FLORENCE, AND MUCH MUCH MORE.

THE TYPE SETTING AND THE ART AND DESIGN OF THE BOOK HAS BEEN COMPLETELY REVAMPED TO FEEL LIKE AN ART BOOK GUIDE TO ITALY.

ALL BOOK PURCHASES WILL COME WITH AN EBOOK COPY AND A PDF.

PREVIOUS PURCHASES WILL BE SENT THEM THIS WEEK.

PLEASE NOTE: THE BOOKS SECOND EDITIONS ARE AT THE PRINTERS AND WILL BE SHIPPED OUT LATE NEXT WEEK FROM THE PUBLISHERS.

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CHASING BEAUTY IN ITALY:

129 PAGES,

RICH COLOR PHOTOGRAPHS OF ITALY AND ITALIAN CULTURE:

LANDSCAPES, CAFES, RESTAURANTS, HOTELS,

SCENIC VIEWS AND HISTORICAL WALKS,

LITERARY SPOTS,

CLASSICAL ARCHITECTURE,

AND SHARP ART REPRODUCTIONS

ALONG WITH TRAVEL ITINERARIES,

HISTORY, STORIES, MAPS,

AND A CULTURAL GUIDE OF OFF THE BEATEN PATH RECOMMENDATIONS –

IN BETWEEN MUSINGS AND MEMORIES OF ITALIA.

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Read BOOK SAMPLES AND EXCERPTS: https://www.romepix.com/blog/

My first novel length book on Roman Italy; exploring 20 years of love, passion, art, and loss chasing beauty in the eternal city and (all over the cultural hot spots of Italia).

ORDERS DO SHIP OUTSIDE THE US!

SHIPPING IN USA $5.00

Canada and Mexico FOR $7.00 SHIPPING FEE

EUROPE / AUSTRALIA / NZ / THE WORLD: $10.00

See and read MORE BOOK SAMPLES AND EXCERPTS here: https://www.romepix.com/blog/

for daily European Art History & Western Culture: follow me on twitter: @romepix

for more ITALY photos and books: romepix.com

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our own Roman holidays

I got to have so many of my own Roman Holiday moments with you… a lifetime of them.

There is a magic feeling in Italy and these other places with a Byronic vision of the past and the pastoral and the monuments and art and ruins and sunshine and plays and ballet and opera and just simple moments walking at sunset and people watching or stopping for a coffee.

Just taking it all in together. Being amazed by thousands of years of humanity and civilization at your fingertips. Seeing and being.

Being in love with the sunshine and water fountains and ice cream and fruit ripening on the trees and with each other. Learning, learning, learning together. Living and appreciating the moment for weeks on end, always in the moment.

Walking for miles, laughing, arguing then laughing, crying at the beauty, exhilarated by it.

his beautiful soul

I finally shut off my husband’s cell phone, after paying for it for a long time rather than shut it off, and I was able to save his message and a message he left a friend right before he died suddenly where he says he is leaving a client’s wake, and he continues, “…good thing we’re not the body, huh, prabhu?” with a mock nervous laugh.

I could hear the smirk in it, but he also meant exactly what he said. I hadn’t listened to it in months because it always made me cry (just like the sad sack music/joie de vie Maya Deren vid collages I make of him and the 50 images apple said were deleted forever, which popped back up in my icloud when I bought an imac pro last week for my home office I madly decided to create)… so I cry (but underneath it all makes me relieved the message I can keep was so directly about what fills most of my contemplation and preoccupations and meanderings and ruminations with).

I miss his discussions on the material nature of life versus the consciousness of energy and/or spirit. I miss our death talks and our life dreams. I miss not feeling guilty all the time, I’m terrified of returning to the limbo of shock and feeling frozen or dead inside, yet I’m terrified of feeling happy and free.

Each emotion (especially as a woman, all water, all mirage, all cloud and fog and crashing sea, formless, gormless, anchorless and floating helplessly and fine with it – there’s the rub – fine with it) each emotion is muteable but they all carry fidelity, noble ideas, connexion in the original sense. If one let’s go of all the feelings does one let go of love and memory and the meaning crystallizing lives interwoven?

Be 20 years old and meet your destiny, follow it, give yourself over to the Keatsian impulse of Negative Capability in flesh and feeling not just poetry, do as nature dictates, and then, one day, everything but your form is extinguished, everything you knew, even the old fist shaped organ is transmuted, and the pulse and the smile and the eye rolls and the murmurs and the wisdom has vanished. The hands to hold in the dark, the spark, the dream you could laugh with, the mystery you held for awhile in an open palm. But… but… but… the only way is a bit of zen and a bit stocism and a bit of mysticism … these are all useless words … the only way is the way … we are the way … all we can do is not just exist in the moment but fucking experience and appreciate the moment … and open ourselves to something betwixt the veil and the sea inside. Energy expands if we expand, because yes, if we constrict and narrow and deaden whilst still conscious we are in the hell of our own making, the hell of our own inaction, the hell of dullness and incuriousness, … and when energy transfigures we are ready to roll.

 

what thou art may never be destroyed. 

www.youtube.com/watch

Vain are the thousand creeds 
That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain, 
Worthless as withered weeds 
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main 
To waken doubt in one 
Holding so fast by thy infinity, 
So surely anchored on 
The steadfast rock of Immortality. 
With wide-embracing love 
Thy spirit animates eternal years 
Pervades and broods above, 
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears 
Though earth and moon were gone 
And suns and universes ceased to be 
And Thou wert left alone 
Every Existence would exist in thee 
There is not room for Death 
Nor atom that his might could render void 
Since thou art Being and Breath 
And what thou art may never be destroyed. 

Emily Brontë

No Coward Soul Is Mins