As time goes by
For a long time now, I have had the notion of an amateur photographer,
a photographer free of the rules of commercial photography,
free also of the rules of art, taking photographs that are private,
but telling a story that could be of interest for others too.
Slowly I am turning into this amateur, turning my ideal into reality.
Family albums have always fascinated me.
I found some,
in abandoned houses,
or in the garbage,
sometimes I'm shown one at the old people's home,
and I also keep looking at an album of my mother.
She was so young back then.
Of course she was.
I see pictures of my father, when he was young,
and now he just sleeps all day,
and doesn't know a thing.
I admired him so much as a child.
In all of these albums you just find traces of reality,
we are show moments of happiness,
but the at times drab reality of everyday life keeps hidden
behind all those happy smiles.
Nevertheless,
all those family pictures
show something very basic
and fundamental to our lives:
the time,
that runs,
and we are born, we grow up,
and grow old,
and then,
we become old and feeble and sick,
and then we will die.
Who cares besides ourselves?
