Psyché: "Io, chi sei?"

"Who are you?" Hands which I don't know: they know my skin. There is a constant conflict between what humans can understand and what escape their intellect. Here, then, the unknown becomes torment and leads to a frantic search that makes its way through the folds of my skin, the field of this battle: the head contracts, tightens and skewers; the voice chokes, the hand is cut off, what a tender story: about horrors, about dreams, sobs and mistakes. This series of self-portraits is an attempt to collect and bind the fragments of an emotional experience that I've faced inside my mind and through my skin (somehow spirit and bones).