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Looking for my rose
I was afraid, but I had to go back there, I had to find my rose, it was mine, I belonged.
There in the garden of nuts, the frantically tried, without a moment's breath, give me no respite, past life without an umbrella, I paused for breath and it was there I saw her, was leaning on a wall nearby, was always beautiful, I found her crumpled, maybe the rain, or perhaps some animals, but I found, my wonderful pink papier-mâché.
nuccia Cammara
Nuccia Cammara met the \"magical eye\" when she was just 12 years old. Since then she has spent most of her formative years as a photographer learning aspects of portraiture, processing, printing and retouching while gaining experience working with different photographers in varied situations.
In particular, she has done research on sociological themes focused on gender differences and is co-author of several publications including: \"Ritratti in chiaroscuro. Costrutti psicologici delle...
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