People
I’ve always been surrounded by people. Some passed by, leaving barely a trace, like the echo of a conversation fading into thin air. But there were others who left a deep, unforgettable mark. People who, through the way they looked at me, spoke to me, or simply were, have stayed with me forever.
These photographs are not just portraits: they are encounters. Moments when someone said more with their silence than with their words. I remember, for example, that woman who looked at me with a mixture of sadness and tenderness, as if she sensed something about myself that I did not yet know. Or that man who, amid laughter, hid the weariness of a lifetime, and yet possessed the dignity of one who remains standing.
They are faces that return when I least expect it. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes in the way the light falls on an empty chair. Each of them left me something: a lesson, a wound, a certainty.
These people—present or absent—are part of who I am. And as long as I remember them, they will continue to live within me, in my images, in the way I see the world.
