In 2021 I found an old photograph album in my house in Sicily, which shows my mother's entire family: brother, parents, uncles, cousins ​​and gradually even her closest friends.

A thin tissue paper tries to protect the photos from the passage of time but I notice that there is a gash right at the height of my mother's face, as if her face wanted to pierce the darkness and look at me, talk to me, tell me that she is still here, among us.

The gash cuts through the darkness but also forgetfulness, the oblivion for which photography is a powerful antidote. I thus imagined giving new life to memories of past lives, decorating them with colours and sometimes ribbons or flowers, to eliminate the temporal connection that has divided us and to confirm that memory has a weight, a soul that transcends all distance, to revive a forced absence and bring it back to us, as an indelible presence.