When rays of sunlight fall through empty windows, when dust dances in the backlight, when a shadow suddenly seems like a memory - then something begins to glow that reaches deeper than the visible surface. Something returns with the light: a hint of memory, a faint echo of life that once was.
In this series, I look for moments when light touches the past. It lies on crumbling walls like on old thoughts, roams through abandoned rooms and brings forth fragments of memory. Not loudly, not clearly - but like a whisper. Like an image that doesn't want to disappear.
My photographs are silent approaches. They do not document, they suggest. They ask what light can make visible - and what perhaps only lives on in the light. Perhaps memory is not what we consciously retain. It is what the light preserves for us.
