Since 2018, I began to question the superfluous elements that permeate daily life, the unease caused by the frenzy imposed by society, and the quality of nourishing relationships. I gradually felt the need to distance myself from what I knew, to often fall silent with myself, to listen to my own voice, and to bring order to my thoughts. I emptied drawers and words, starting a process of deconstruction that still accompanies me today.
I believe that to empty means to make space for the unknown, for something that is yet to come—like sculpture, which removes material to reveal the form. For me, it meant creating space for new thoughts, for the essential, for the connections that matter, and for the sacred that surrounds us. That sacredness I find in many seemingly insignificant gestures, in the earth that offers us beauty, and even in what we dislike.
“It was a sort of urgency to feel alone and in the company of all beings who surrender to the flow: leaves, mountains, animals, children, and some adults—worn out or radiant.”
