It was rubble and pestilence. Walls and beings. Both ready to enter my conflict. Hands full of full breasts. Color and light, without direction. All at once. And there on the horizon, a hill, with trees on the contrary, descending and ascending like a cloud. How could the landscape change so quickly? Surely the centuries were out of control and running to who knows where. And me, in the middle. In the middle of a pile of nothing that was trying to tell me everything. And light. And dense, like cotton.

Special Edition: #TezosPride

Photography: Ariel Gricio Text: Gali Garófalo

PNG 4050 x 2700 13,6 MB