Ruth's hold could even exist no more, who knows what did they carry, whic seas did they sail, how many people happened to glance at these green metallic bulkheads. Ruth is the subject of a photograph I shot nearly fifteen years ago, on some cheap film with a compact Yashica I still own, when it was still possible to access the docks in Piombino harbour. Damn 9/11, damned useless fuckin' fears. Nowadays a net surrounds everything, gates, barbed wire, walls and barricades. Even if there ain't anything to protect, even if they're not enough to protect anything. When I was a kid, my father Roberto led me there, on the dock, to see the ships, the seagulls, the fishing boats and all that bizarre and so familiar world. Nowadays you can't even hope of entering the area, they'd block you on the way in and your childhood memories would stop out of the gate. Maybe Ruth still moors there, maybe it has been dismantled, what's sure is that the seagulls don't fuckin' mind about the gate, despite of us, our 9/11 and our stupid fears. Terrorism, by the way, just works: it stole some of my memories and I cared about them more than 'bout two business towers beyond the ocean.
Shot in the early 90's with a compact Yashica on cheap film.