Life is about saying goodbye. When my father died, I think I finally understood what that truly meant. Before he was cremated, his body was laid out in the house where I grew up. I took photographs of him there, but I never looked at them again. Perhaps I simply didn’t have the courage to.

Years later, another farewell arrived: the divorce with my wife.
That had a profound impact on me. I was left alone in the house where our family had lived, and I had to relocate both my workspace and my photo archive. Moving and saying goodbye often force you to confront the past. That’s how I came across a CD containing the photographs of my late father.

Life is also about building memories, and we often have images to accompany them. Moving and unpacking my photo archive became a journey in itself. Memories tend to be fragmented, creating connections that may never have existed in reality. They evolve into something like your own version of reality, though often blurred or hazy. At the same time, memory can highlight certain details with striking clarity.

It was these details I was searching for, and I explored them by re-photographing fragments of negatives and contact sheets from my archive. For two or three weeks, this became an almost obsessive activity.

To keep this search from being slowed down or hindered by technical obstacles or the pursuit of perfection, I used my smartphone with a macro lens. This allowed me to focus entirely on exploring and uncovering my story and its details. I later complemented these ‘new’ photographs with old Polaroids and images from my digital archive.