She calls the wind and opens a gate, allowing something ancient to pass through her without force, without resistance, as if the body already knows how to carry what wants to move. Sometimes a woman comes to me saying she simply wants to be photographed, but her body speaks a different language one that is not interested in looking good or being shaped correctly, but in feeling, in feeling alive, in remembering something that was never truly lost. In these moments, photography stops being an image and becomes a passage, where the body leads and memory follows quietly behind.
