"While I have many memories of him, his voice is not among them. Silence was the most valuable lesson I learned from my father".

Throughout that period, on winter evenings in a small kitchen by the fire where we stood head to head to keep warm, even the brothers and sisters seemed to me like strange characters, like mysterious scarecrows, each of whom offered their own unique perspective on life and the motives of the father's silence. Even when he spoke he had a hushed tone, almost like a whisper. (excerpt from memoirs)

Made on the back of ILFORD / 24 X 30,5 cm / photographic paper medium glossy 180

Made on the back of ILFORD / 24 X 30,5 cm / photographic paper medium glossy 180

Made on the back of ILFORD / 24 X 30,5 cm / photographic paper medium glossy 180

"Me and my sister Landa behind the Lavanderia e Diellit" summer 1978. Oil on canvas / 120 X 100 cm

"I've seen my mom dancing to Three Dog Night Joy to the World" in the hallway". (excerpt from memoirs)

"I was afraid of the sink because I believed that along with the water I would end up being absorbed by the sink's rim, this made me cringe and I tried to put my nails through the sides of the sink to hold on, but on the other hand, they looked like an abyss to me. It was terrifying. It wasn't easy". (excerpt from memoirs)

Made on the back of ILFORD / 24 X 30,5 cm / photographic paper medium glossy 180

Made on the back of ILFORD / 24 X 30,5 cm / photographic paper medium glossy 180

As she began to wash me, I could feel the strength in her hands, the fingers moving. The water caressed my body but also exerted weight, a kind of pressure that pressed my chest. I had once looked up at my mother and noticed an expression of love on her face. But what caught my attention were her nipples, abundant and strong, which in my eyes looked like impassable hills. They carried the weight of my existence, the weight of motherhood. But for me they were more than that. They were the source of an incomprehensible fear for me that I believed to be the cause of the marks carved into my fragile skin. (excerpt from memoirs)

Made on the back of ILFORD / 24 X 30,5 cm / photographic paper medium glossy 180

"But in such situations, there are some stories that whisper between the hidden lines of silence, waiting to be deciphered in the cadence of time covering my youth, a chapter from the forgotten years, when I found myself unwittingly thrust into the limits of obligation military in a far northern city.

In the twilight realm of memory, where time blurs and memories dissipate like smoke in the wind, lie the enigmatic patchwork of my younger years—fragmented and sometimes erased entirely.

Am I the protagonist of a narrative woven with threads of amnesia on a pilgrimage within myself? Of a tale tinged with surreal undertones of oblivion and the relentless pursuit of elusive memories, the more I delve into this puzzle, the more they slip like grains of mercury through my fingers?

Is there a beauty in the undefined, a poetic allure in the uncharted territories of the mind?

Well, art is like a drainage channel, a tool to overcome the barriers of the forgotten time". 

(excerpt from memoirs)

A chapter from the forgotten years, when I found myself unwittingly thrust into the confines of military conscription in a far northern city. (excerpt from memoirs)

"The old soldiers as guards of a clandestine brotherhood whose icy stares held the weight of experience regarded the newcomers, the new recruits like me, with obvious hostility". (excerpt from memoirs)

"Navigating this hostile terrain was akin to walking through a minefield of unspoken rules and unshakable hierarchies". (excerpt from memoirs)

"Navigating this hostile terrain was akin to walking through a minefield of unspoken rules and unshakable hierarchies". (excerpt from memoirs)

"Navigating this hostile terrain was akin to walking through a minefield of unspoken rules and unshakable hierarchies". (excerpt from memoirs)

"Now, in the absence of memories, I am freed from the constraints of a linear narrative, I am the author of my own narrative, a tale embellished with the enigmatic allure of forgotten years, an odyssey where the journey itself eclipses the destination". (excerpt from memoirs)

"Now, in the absence of memories, I am freed from the constraints of a linear narrative, I am the author of my own narrative, a tale embellished with the enigmatic allure of forgotten years, an odyssey where the journey itself eclipses the destination". (excerpt from memoirs)

"Now, in the absence of memories, I am freed from the constraints of a linear narrative, I am the author of my own narrative, a tale embellished with the enigmatic allure of forgotten years, an odyssey where the journey itself eclipses the destination". (excerpt from memoirs)

"You can't help but notice the high wall that separated our shelter from the neighboring Chinese embassy. It stood tall and imposing, like a physical barrier that reminded us of the separation between us. However, my feelings towards the Chinese went beyond simple separation from that wall.

Two reasons fueled my disdain for them. The first was their penchant for blasting communist propaganda documentaries loudly robbing me of sleep and peace.

But it was the second reason that shook me to the core, the one that planted a deep anger inside me. The Chinese officials of the amabasade would brazenly climb their high wall, like stealthy thieves in the night, and pluck the ripe ripe persimmons that hung from the branches of my beloved tree. Every time I witnessed this act of theft, my blood boiled with anger and indignation". (excerpt from memoirs)