These photographs are mostly a memory, it’s of a foggy place, it’s a house that you lived a long time ago in far away city…
Family pictures, fragments of life. Obsession with time and with the chance to think again to what meant a lot, totally lost and free, like a bar chat with an unknown man.
Like copy paper that goes slightly out of place, it reminds a past that can’t be reached exactly, missing something that I still search and that is so little to need a name to really exist.
So thin it can look transparent, invisible.
It’s loss, joy, escape, freedom, hope. A set of pictures like random poems that have nothing to do with each other…totally lost and free, and just for this reason every picture can be so close to each other..
It’s a painting I am watching, but something is yet to be explained.
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