Silence is my cage.

I had been building this bubble of silence over the years, and I did not even see it. Silence was my refuge, I became invisible.

For a long time, I convinced myself that silence was my inheritance. And it is, partially.

My parents never talked - about their trauma, their addiction, their depression…my suicide attempt.

When I started this project wandering around to capture silence, I thought that it was my parents’ silence I was trying to portray.

I was constantly thinking about the idea that “at the end, what remains is silence”, at the end we don’t really know the persons we share our lives with.

But the more I looked at the pictures; the more I tried to articulate what this project was about; the more I realized that this silence was my own.

I did inherit silence – like many other things that was passed on to me-; but I made it my own, I let it permeate every cells of my being.

Silence became my cage, the prism through which I see the world.

Now I’m here, wandering the streets of an unknown city, peeling off the layers of silence that blinded me for so long.

Maybe one day I will see again.