tila-aika
s. 1981, Firenze, Italia
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One day I saw my mother watching some old family pictures. In one of the photographs my father and I were enjoying the Tuscany summer sun posing in front of a shining sea full of swimmers. I noticed that she was crying. I wonder if she took that picture.
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A few years ago a guy that I know disappeared. With "disappeared" I don't mean that he died. He left a message on the table saying: "Thank you for everything. I am leaving this place, please don't come to look for me."
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I thought that sometimes everybody would like to disappear. Maybe to migrate somewhere nicer, somewhere warmer. Where nobody knows you. Â Where you can be somebody else.
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Also changing is a sort of leaving. Where has my old me gone when I changed?
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Some people decide to change, and some are forced to disappear.
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Filippo Zambon: Etretat #1, 2011, valokuva
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