There is a twofold question underlying this publishing surprise by Freddie del Curatolo and Leni Frau. 
Is it a book that one watches like a film in private viewing in front of one's own imagination, or is it a film that one flicks through frame by frame, chapter by chapter, accompanied by exhaustive poetic and sociological captions? 
Perhaps it is the harmonious fusion of a literary exercise and its reflection in images that are at once sublime and merciless, Siamese to each other. 
A photographic book with text is nothing new, but here the two arts, word and vision, do not come into conflict as they often do, but celebrate an elective and equidistant marriage, with no supremacy of one artistic discipline over the other.
It is about love for a mythical and fascinating continent: Africa. Another possible title could be: Our Africa. But that would not be fair, because it is the Africa of the natives only.
The audacity lies in having set aside the easy project of geographical landscapes, to instead give the reader the inner landscape of the subjects framed. These are the thoughts of the common people, the anonymous and heroic Africans, women and men, caught in their minimal everyday life, the hard labours, the historical and stoic patience, the poverty and the smile, the struggle and the acceptance. 
Resistance that turns into resilience. The author animates them, makes the last ones speak behind the mute photo, gives voice to the voiceless, dances with them the most tribal rituals that intersect with the warnings of a modernity difficult to understand and that often ruins archaic harmonies and traditions. The images stop forever the glances and gestures that are repeated from one eternity to the next and that represent the other Africa, the non-tourist one, the most hidden, even if it is in front of everyone's eyes. 
‘Ti immagini l'Africa’ is a beautiful book, Leni Frau's photos are stunning and socio-intriguing. And the texts, with their transparent and luminous writing, choose the Africa of the streets and villages, of the people and all their real or hypothetical thoughts and dreams, leaving aside the usual stereotypes of landscape and folklore, to create an axis of conjunction between the individual and the entire socio-psychological environment, restoring dignity of being to a multitude now seen as a shapeless mass homologated in non-hope.
Instead, in the misery, in the tragedies, parade anonymous characters to whom the author gives a precise identity because he knows the heroic minimalism of their daily lives made up of deprivation, of essential primordiality, but the area of thought that is presented as high as Mount Kenya was obscured.
This work is a heartfelt, fraternal, compassionate investigation, without lamentations, perhaps instead with warnings that should be heeded.
Freddie del Curatolo has combined his craft as a journalist with a moving, poetic soul, as the beautiful, concise, comprehensive lyrics show without veils or pity. 

Magic images that, besides pure beauty, break through the curtain and burst into the background, behind which emerges a humanity that is perhaps more fascinating than a safari.
(Mauro Macario is an Italian poet and novelist, winner of the 2012 Montale Prize. He has visited Kenya several times and has been made an honorary member of the Giriama tribe under the name Mukweha Lewa)