September 2025.
A Cycladic island.
The days move slowly here—stillness giving way to motion, then back again. Heat stretches time. Roads feel longer than they are.
This series lives somewhere between pauses and horizons. Borrowing from Antonioni’s silences, Sergio Leone’s distant lines, and the sun‑burned pull of America’s Ventura Highway. It is also shaped by California dreaming—not the song exactly, but the impulse behind it: the desire for elsewhere, for openness, for movement.
An innocent journey.
A summer road trip.
A quiet escape, where time softens and the world briefly loosens its grip.
The work took form under the gentle guidance of Nicolas Pascarel.
I once imagined these images accompanied by The Sound of Silence. But some sounds are already inhabited. As a friend reminded me, that song belongs to Dustin Hoffman—floating in a swimming pool, suspended in The Graduate.
