Λbsurdale

Sometimes I happen to capture a configuration of events that could be neither planned nor arranged – as if they have already been arranged. A single gesture, a random blow of wind, or a single absent gaze that gives meaning to the whole situation.  The photos come from different sites and different moments. There is no connection between them; maybe only this momentary sense of clash in my head. Like rasps and cracklings of the reality. Peace and anxiety. Possible and impossible. Visible and invisible. A mental state that no one could stand for a long time. Although it is contradictory in its nature, it is not devoid of meaning. Just the opposite in fact: it is in those episodes when separate frequencies overlap within a split of a second, when a synthesis of tiny details gets suddenly revealed. In such moments I feel overwhelmed by the absurdity of our being in the world; of being suspended in the universe. It is this sort of feeling of being unexpectedly moved when, in the most trivial moment, one senses a connection with the meaning. Some place, someone, some meaning – this is what life is about, and will suffice. Things are the way they are.