Why here?
Since I arrived in Canada, the lake has always been a place where I felt at home. During the summer months I come to this very beach, slowly dip my feet into the water and then walk a couple of steps until the water reaches my knees. With my back towards the sandy beach, I face the horizon - if I just focus my gaze on that horizon - all I can see is sky and water, blue on blue, and I keep telling myself: this could be Italy. It does look exactly like this. The horizon between the sea and the sky is the same. Everything about the city behinds me is blocked out of my sight. I completely loose myself in the reveries of being home for those brief moments.
Who's here?
In this walk I have disseminated sounds and voices of Italian immigrants who came to America and North America long before me, from one shore to the other.Their voices are left untranslated on purpose.