About This Project
I remember that one day Davide Benati, told me a story. T’was the story of his father, in Sicily island (IT) during WWII bombings. T’was evening, and the man, fleeing through the fields, ended in a plain, open valley. From the place where it was he could distinctly recognize the shapes of many rounded geometrical objects. There where the fragments columns of the Agrigento temples valley, destroyed and crumbled down. Like hay bales in a grass field.