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Panormus, stupor mundi

What is known about number 3 ? Is said to have qualities of perfection, in the popular knowledge.

Sicily is a 3.

It is the Trinacria , a triangle. We read its fate starting from the geometry and the primacy of mathematics, finding this gentle land at the center of the Mediterranean and human affairs in every century .

Sicily is a wrap of everything has been excellent in the protoeuropea civilization.

Visiting Palermo shakes cognitions. The city is two-dimensional.

Turning your head from right to left can mean popping eyes in wonder or tighten them in disgust soon after.

However, it doesn’t matter .

Prejudices are a disease from mainland, in Palermo they don’t exist, neither for buildings, all lived in the same way if decaded or shiny.

No one here is ugly, foreign or bad.

Anyone can smile, be your friend, invite you for a drink or take you where you want: diversity is fair.

If the Vucciria market anyone would have to be dragged into long nights of partying and lights, as it ever happens.

Third generation

Dino Cambria is a hero.

His job comes from 1927, when grandpa Salvatore started business in the ancient market of Vucciria, Palermo.

Nowadays is the only active sharpener of 70’s generation: a real paladin of tradition.

Furio the cat was happy to pose with him.

Where it all began

S. Nicholas of Bari all’Albergheria .

I knew that with a little luck, the parish priest Don Andrea would grant me to climb all the way up the church tower, for a unique view of the old city.

So far, so good.

First thirty steps. Mmm. Architectural structure of medieval note, the worst spiral staircase ever built.

However, the bad rise succeeded with a picture that has the flavor of the true spoils of war. Here’s the city, pure.

Neoclassical meeting

Palermo cathedral: desperate race to catch a bus. In the run, I noticed young people camped on the seats lining the perimeter of the beautiful religious building.

While chasing the middle, I see: heads, counterpoint, geometry.

And it was click.

Take me home

Strolling through the Ballarò market, I met this woman. Strident in appearance but by no means out of context, in the city where no one is stranger.

Professing shots

Yes, a tourist in Casa Professa.

I followed him with confidence for the whole church. waiting for the moment when it would have been embraced by geometry. Suddenly I saw his figure in the center of the nave: right place, right light.

Praying baroque

Quattro Canti, S. Joseph of Theatines .

I’ve spent there a bit of time before evening, being fascinated by the composure of this lady.

Not a grimace of involvement in her posture: in the temple of the Baroque she was a perfect agreement, repetitive, formal and aloof.

A baroque pray.


Santa Maria in Valverde is home to the romanian orthodox religious community of Palermo.

We visited during the rite of blessing, catapulted into one of those surreal dimensions that the city offers, made of incomprehensible signs and obscure shouted words, in the setting of a rebirth baroque jewel. Three worlds in my goal.

Vintage bedroom

One of the many dogs in the markets, dozed off to the Sun in the churchyards.

I saw him like a tired manager in the rest of home, at the end of a busy day.

Night song

It is night, and the crossroads show off elegance, enveloping the beauty of light.

There’s no time, time wins on itself . Palermo renewed the battle against modernity .

Fresh fish

The Capo market, rich and teeming . This fishmonger instead was silent, watchful.

He did not like my shooting, but I think this picture represents well his temper, distinctly different from his colleagues.

Three for two

A scene that consists of its own, starting with the title, a triple-geometric reference in anthropo-animal meaning.

Nineteenth century city, opposite the english garden: Palermo is really alive and joyful, including dogs (when not sleeping in the churchyards ).

Fleas, my time

Flea market.

Here, the rumble of the wealth that was once, finds place place between warehouses of dust and stalls.

There is silence, an unnatural silence and melancholy, and sellers take curved shape, consistent with the past that becomes a commodity.


Last afternoon, nineteenth century city.

The girl who ran our accommodation, invited us at the opening of this store.

When we arrived, she hugged with a glass of prosecco and then greet with affection, referring to future visits.

It was not trade, nor comedy.

We’ll return to speak again of Guttuso and Vucciria, in a spyre of warmth that only in Palermo I have reasonably tasted.

Garibaldi’s youth

Near the Politeama Garibaldi, in the new town, life makes up in a myriad of characters.

The most vociferous are of course young people, who in their apparent simplicity offer snapshots of great interest. No one has explained the sombrero, but the dogs seemed quite busy.

Pagan circles

Piazza Magione is alive, Roman remains are mixed with newer buildings, languishing in a chaotic spontaneous green area, officially forgotten but enlivened by people.

This space is good for everything: art, parties, some sports, an evening beer with sandwich.

The afternoon belongs to who loves to chat and perk up in the Sun, with the right amount of friends.

Like Alice

In the English Garden you can lose yourself in the wake of the freedom.

Fantasizing you can also meet her, Carroll’s Alice, intent to take the fascinating passage of her adventures.

The beautiful bourgeoisie

“Antico caffè Spinnato”, an institution for the good society .

Through a window, from the inside, I did not want to miss this fine gentleman smiling.

He was there, in the best tradition, embodying traits of an entire class.


Woke up early, sleeping a few hours.

From the balcony of the kitchen, every the morning , I had the habit to watch the horses in the yard, maniacally manicured for the day of tourism job. A small niche of time that I enjoyed, sneaking something anachronistic to the city, that took an emotional twist to keep.

Chi min…

Instinct: there’s the setting, there’s the character, there’s a good timing.


The Vucciria is served.

I’ll return

With this scene, that reminds me Caravaggio, I closed my eyes on a city that does not begin or end in what lets you see.

The last picture , the very last: a wish allows me to bond with Palermo, to which I owe smiles, love, kindness, and plenty of light to keep.



Profile photo of Angela Accarrino

All begun in Bari, Italy, on march 25, 1981.Aries with Moon in Scorpio, strong feelings and passionate twisted thoughts: the perfect balance to reveal myself as a curious never tamed soul. After a degree in Literature I published my first novel, then started my commitment in photography and the urge to wander around the world. I'm a teller, an observer, a wayfarer, hungry for knowledge and art. I learned to write at age three.Now I do it as a form of breathing, and one of my favourite pens is a camera.

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