NOSTOS

“Life is not what one has lived,” writes Gabriel García Márquez, “but what one remembers and how one remembers it in order to recount it.” For me, this is “nostos”: an endless arrival at unknown ports, places where I hope to be welcomed; eyes that capture my gaze; fleeting smiles, melancholy, waiting, hope, defeat. Stories to sense, to guess, to tell in the improbability of the moment. “Nostos” is my elsewhere—sought everywhere, longed for always, shared with anyone with whom, even for just a moment, I can feel my present and perhaps my ‘yet to come’. Because I know I will always find my “nostos” again, in other spaces, in other encounters—completely different in its absolute uniqueness, yet always the same for that charge of nostalgia, tension, and unquenchable search that has guided me here. But mine is never a final “here”: mine is a journey without arrivals, a road that runs through my entire story—the one I have lived and the one I tell with my photographs. Along this uninterrupted and sometimes labyrinthine inner path, every stage, every port is an opportunity for me to confront myself and to dialogue with others.