ulisse albiati people photographer
P.IVA (Italian VATIN): 06454560480.
pictures of models and glamour

here you are on models
go to couples
go to weddings
go to public places
go to discotheques
go to concerts
go to rock and roll styles
go to theaters
go to personages

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MODEL PHOTOGRAPHY PORTFOLIO: # Blue eyes blond model stretched out in the water. A Rimmel Venus in bathing suit. # A girl in a lagoon: drawing away the hair, leaving a water contrail. Into the great wide open. # A nice girl in bikini: fingers between the hair, time is on her side. # A pin-up in a glamour pose: fingers between the dreams, looking towards the photographer. # A model with her head under a water jet. A splashing summer, full of life. # A blonde model with swimsuit and sunglasses. Take a glance at the wonderful Canarias. # Sunny model seated in the bright light of a lagoon. A pretty Venus in swimsuit. # Red model relaxed in the clear water of a lagoon. A languid Venus in love. # A close up of a quick head shake: squirting away the water. This is the power of rock and roll. # Red hair model stretched out in the clear water of a lagoon. A glamour Venus in bikini. # A cute French model with a white flower between the hair. An exotic place with blue sky and palms on the background. # A dressed and wet woman comes out from the swimming pool, using the stepladder. A modern Venus in orange. # A smiling model in bathing suit, in a place full of light. Pure and glamour bliss. Black and white glamour pin-up. # Model with a hat and summer clothes, seated alone in a café, writing a message with her own smartphone. Life is elsewhere. # A portrait of a lady. I've fallen for a beautiful dream, took off the not so far land of Nod. # Blue eyes in a reflection. All our scribbled love nights are lost, forever, or faded to darkness. # A miss, a smile, a glance, and a magic of a melancholy tear in your heart for a moment. And the moment is gone. # An image of the last model of summer. And only my garden knows what's good and what's wrong. # It's late, true late. But you got no intention of going home, and it's a quarter of three. # Mad about lace. Had me an elegant model in Florence, and one night she just had to go. I hate this town. # A photograph of a lady. So she smiled me, but she wanted those fine things and those hot nights on the sin city. # A portrait. Nobody can keep a love that's gone bad, violent, sad. So sail away and don't look back. # An image of you, red hair girl. I've putting it off for a lot, but it's harder by tonight. # A portrait, wide awake all night long, now that Alice's back in town. And the mad hatter is behind the camera. # A merry picture, but she can't burns the midnight oil with us and stare out at the full moon through the window. # A photograph. Tonight left me fumbling with the heavy Jazz of Tom Waits. And It's so hard to win when you always lose. # A dream of a model, with marmalade hair, honey shoulders and liquorice eyes. The sweetest thing in your mind. # A portrait of a tobacco brunette. I'll be drinking to forget me, playing another LP and smoking another cigar. # Nighthawks at the studio, wandering girls, insomniacs, werewolves around a coffee dream. Do not close the door tonight. # (For the picture of me ~ Send, by prepaid classic old mail: three poetries of Rimbaud, two slices of cake, and a self addressed stamped envelope to Doctor Pëtr Ilič Ul'janov, Citizen of the World, Nowhere.) # A photograph. I wish I was in Florence, I can see it in my dreams. Arm in arm down via Verdi. A bottle, a pretty girl and me. # A pic. And you can't find your girlfriend. She hates you, your lunatic solitude and your Nikon. # Anti-model, sharp as a razor and keen as an edge. Intimidating as hell, and beautiful as heaven. # A portrait of a Joker. You're got rained on, and the marquise dressed in black and pink weren't weeping. # A model. And I feel as though we've met before. Perhaps I'm mistaken, but it's just I remind you. # A portrait. I have no cash to spend on my babe, and the life goes on. I'll be busting my chops, working hard for the club. # A pin-up. The flesh tattoo turned a prickly rose. Scrawled across the shoulders, of an imaginary studio. # A glamour motherhubbard. Just a twinkle of the lips, a reflection of the night, or the breakdown of the heart. # A portrait. And the sandman takes you where you'll be sleeping with the last pin-up of teenage.