Within Trees

Every Friday, the florist delivers me gorgeous flowers arrangements.  I dedicate them to Rita, my friend, my motherlike, my idol, the teacher, my source of courage and discovery, my mirror, my hero, my shade. Rita deserves more. 

Places, spaces, animated once and  left behind than after! how many stories contain. I moved on, left places, spaces of my soul. They still stand proudly, enriched silent testimonials  of people’s stories that took place there.

It was the day before a powerful monsoon storm in Central Sri Lanka when I noticed intricate, almost embroidered reflections dancing on the surface of the muddy ponds. A delicate, fleeting beauty. The next day, everything was submerged—the water had swallowed it all. Nothing remained visible to the eye, lost beneath the flood. Yet, in time, they would resurface—transformed, stronger, and renewed.

Some Greek islands are very unique in their rock formation. Century after century, layer after layer, they are writing the chronology of time. Living sculptures, Storytellers that are holding and unfolding secrets of life.

This was my first project — the final assessment for Fotoacademie, where I had the freedom to choose my own theme. Initially, I was drawn to macro close-ups, but the question remained: of what?