For me, writing and taking photos is about reflection and a poetic holding-on, but in times of great change and tumbling heart matters, I cannot keep up with reality and I zoom out. My reality moves too fast although I put it in motion.

I left what has been my life and context for the last 6 years. I did not leave it behind. I know it is not a place outside myself, but the dialog I set up with my surroundings. I was dramatic about leaving and I still am, because to me it feels like loss. Not the loss of a place and people only, that too, but also the self you were allowed to be besides these places and people that belonged to your Life.

People say: You can always go back. Yes, I might move to Spain again, move back. But going back to places is hard because it emphasizes the loss and how Time and Things and Life move on. There is something about the discontinuity of memory that is painful. It's hard to explain that even if I go back one day, I still had to lose this Time first. And that going back will also remind me more vividly of having left.