In the passing of time
presence
become the effort
to mark it
to fix it

become small figures

become large words, contained into bubbles, transported from whatsapp chats into wooden boards, engraving avery single letter.

The letter "o" in the most difficult.


Some details make you aware of time and hours.

There is no one typing to someone else, just the memory of those people like the memories of discussing about something specific like a work in progress, a fear, a dream, where questions that crowd my mind are displayed alive, bared, without filters

more tangible?

Somebody wrote me that it likes those little figures popping up with colorful clothes and huge backpack…

It’s like a story into another one, that has started from a component of the reality, from some scrap of that.

I grasp it, taking some few elements from it, making it almost immortal, or more permanent or more present...


🎁