I am a documentary photographer and a writer. I search, I observe, I witness, I record, I learn. When I give titles to my photos, they often have less to do with what they represent visually. They are more a reflection of what I see in them. Each of them has its own story conditioned by the moment in which it was created; my mood, the context of the environment, the atmosphere, the sound, the smell, the complete experience of what existed then. On my walls, they do not exist in two dimensions, they exist in four, because each one has the depth of the reality of that time in which it all happened, they have the texture of what was experienced. In the texts accompanying each photo, I try to convey it to those who were not there, to give them a piece of reality, a dose of emotion without which everything would be meaningless and flat like a poster from a supermarket. With each of them, I try to return to that moment, that negligible fraction of a second when everything is achievable, on the blurred edge where imagination and reality meet, when we just exist, without the weight of the world on our shoulders.