Livigno Blog

Memory picture - Thomas Bormolini



I've always loved to tell a good story, and also to have many photos within reach, to reignite the memories featured in those stories.
If you think about it, it's funny how much narrative, how much storytelling there is in every single shot, and how all the film rolls of your life can become a jigsaw to pass down to others. Your photo albums say a lot about who you are, especially to yourself.
Every picture is a moment, and every moment a dot in the sky. If you connect them all, you'll see your personal constellation, the one that guided you right to this moment, and made you who you are today.

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Still going on - Loris Leoni

I've always been the baby of the house, the last of the breed.
The outnumbered third son, born seven and ten years after my sisters. And I turned being at the back of the line into a lifestyle.
Since I was a child.
Stray to the core, desperate enough, always curious, my favourite game was being outside, sneaking out of the house as soon as school was over, and getting back at sunset, covered in snow, earth or who knows what else.
They were the 1980s, there were no cellphones, and when a child went out to conquer the town, mothers and fathers couldn't do anything else but wait for them, hoping they would get back all in one piece, without racking up too much damage.
I liked to play with wood, and build makeshift shelters in the woods or in fields. I liked to take my out-of-towner friends - those who came here for the summer and stayed all season - out to explore. I liked to watch construction sites, and bother workers into telling me how things were built.

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In Livigno by Sandro Mottini




The Mottini family and the Beppin cousins.
Achille Compagnoni and the four brothers.
Thoeni's dad, Don Parenti and the Longa family.
Engineer Pellentz and the Sartorelli family.
To write a story, you should always start by defining its characters, and when you want to tell a one that is one-hundred years old, the candidates are plenty, and someone always ends up outside the frame.

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Here, at home | by Antonio Rossi

I know I’ve ruined many athletes, perhaps more than those I’ve managed to inspire.
I’ve always been convinced I don’t have any great physical talent, which is why I thought that the only way I could stand out was by working more than the others.
At least 15% more.
It wasn’t an expression, a mindset as it were, but rather a mathematical calculation.
15% and up.

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Light | by Marta Bassino

When I realized I had won the Giant Slalom Cup, it was as if my whole life had flashed before my eyes in a minute.
Historical events and recurrences, in a game of dates and places that return and that link my
my most beautiful season ever to those of my beginnings, those that really made me
realize that I could belong to this world of absolute excellence.

Throughout the winter, it was like lying to myself, or at least like omitting
some pieces of the truth. When you're doing something great, it's a matter of seconds when
someone distract you tapping on the shoulder and steal it from under your nose, and
then I wanted to protect my journey, pretending not to fully understand its real
value.
I skied free, trying to isolate myself from everything that wasn't strictly "snow and
stakes", convinced that in sports, the sums are only added up at the end.
Always.
Partly for superstition, and partly because anything can happen in skiing, right up to the last gate.

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