By taking personal photos, people leave traces of the desired or incidental contact between themselves and inanimate elements of reality. Each place is thus a stratification of stories, memories and past moments: a diary. Thanks to a photographic atlas of dear places, we see the potentiality of travelling, exploring and getting in touch with traces and fragments of an ancestral story.
Imagine the possibility of time traveling. Questioning ourselves and the ground we have under our feet is daunting. Without detaching from the univocality of living in the here and now, being thrown into something seemingly unknown can provoke incomprehension and restlessness. A jump in time is never accurate in the subjectivity with which we live the time itself. You would like to meet a person 50 years ago and when you get there, that person just left. Only through the ingenuity of a partial vision, the possibility of completing what’s missing will present itself to you, the possibility of intuitively entering into the gap between the remnants of reality and the imagination within us, our friends and our family. In this time span we find entangled chairs, trees, seas, houses; without a clear time but with a familiar flavour. The grandfather, picklock and questioner of this journey, acquires abstract looks, and from the root of our life he becomes earth itself, full of grooves and ready to guide us and harbor new steps. Suspended between fatalism and romantic loneliness, the places that are meaningful to a loved one make us all feel the past within us through invisible wires underlying reality. In this way, just like in a mosaic of Borges, we have lived all the stories ever lived, and every element of reality echoes with their sound.
And just like that, the history of the world is made whole.