The Rooms

An archive of memory.

The Rooms_ are spaces once full of life, now uninhabited. They are not ruins, but suspensions. What remains are traces, sometimes visible, sometimes barely perceptible, of those who lived their lives there.

Dusty furniture, forgotten objects, the lighter rectangles on walls where family photographs hung for decades. Each mark is an involuntary biography: affections, loves, grudges, passions that left their imprint on floors now covered in dust.

The photographer does not merely document abandonment; he questions memory. These rooms hold stories we will never know, and they compel us to an exercise of the intellect: to imagine, through furnishings and objects, the people who inhabited them. An exercise that brings us back to our own present, to a present that will soon, inevitably, become past.

Today these houses are inhabited only by the ghosts of their former residents. Ghosts destined, soon, to abandon them to eternal oblivion. When they too are gone, nothing will remain except the photographic image as testimony.

And all this happens while outside, concrete continues to advance, useless buildings continue to rise in a country unable to confront its own past and its own memory.

One open question remains, and it is at the heart of this work: will man ever be able to improve his relationship with his habitat, learning to live the present while keeping a strong bond with what has been?