Recently I got obsessed with the concept of time passing. To avoid feeling blind, bored or defeated, I take a picture. i dream it until I found it so I can keep quiet for a while. Then I start to feel empty again and I have to find a new picture…but it can never be like the last one. 
Some pictures never find a home, they just wander around like lost souls between heaven and fire. Confused like bar stories, surprised and free.
Until they’ll find home I will keep wandering and searching.
Long exposures make reality and time disappear, pressure fades away and what remains is only my feeling of a places, situations, faces and encounters.

I find myself awake at night
wandering home(s) and memories, looking for connections
I open a box full of my school stuff from my age as a child
that my father gave me…
I keep looking at a recent picture that I took at my parents garden.
and I realize that I’m becoming more and more like him.
Dust covers memories
and pictures are time keepers, helping me to balance
Birth, goodbyes, death, flashbacks and escape.
Imaginary landscapes.
Time expand and disappears.
How long is now?

Gabriele Lopez, Milan 2018
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