E-motion, e-mail, e-moticon. Movement, communication, feelings. Here we are, inhabitants of the planet, forms and light, tiny aliens, secondary details, figures against a broad backdrop of the everyday. That’s us, going through the motions, brushing past without seeing one another, disappearing, slipping away. No contact, no words, no interaction. And yet the impossible encounter occurs. In buildings, in museums, in the places of the moment, in public spaces, figures “pass” fluctuating in the subliminal. A precise, clean “cut”. A choice. A long shot, background. Close up, detail. Not detailed, though. The lens points and “shoots” into the mass. And then reveals, slowly. Brings out, gives voice, expresses. A movement that, no matter how fast, is impressed on the film. And is made object, hand-made, to be held in the hand. Photograph not digital image. Reality, in any case. Supporting actors, but actors nonetheless. Men and women living in the same space. That of the public. That in which we meet and collide, in which we eat (hurriedly), in which we observe in order to be observed (fleeting glances). Deformation is natural. Obsession encourages “theft”. The testimony of photography is not passive with respects to the world. It is a choice. That of entrusting ourselves to reality and our own eyes. Selecting the set, eliminating the context, proposing a vision. “The” vision.