Overfeel
Softness of the connection to my protective mother, of my lover fondling my face, of my eye running on his naked body, of the sun burning after a sad winter.
I’m lucky enough to be able to talk about kindness. To be able to take refuge in the thoughts that inhabit my soul, to rediscover the feeling of tenderness that life can bring.
It’s rarely today that we feel it. It's tomorrow, in a few years' time, when we remember today, that we'll discover the feeling that inhabited our hearts. It's that smell, that sound, that taste which, in a moment of thoughtfulness, projects you into the sweetness of the former moment.
Softness is everywhere, it's actually having the time to live.
I miss it terribly every day that it doesn't envelop me, like the giant bath towel my father used to wrap around me when the hot bath water disappeared in the drain. I could cry. But sweetness doesn't make you cry, not even for joy, because it's a remedy.
Sweetness is when someone finally understands you in your pain, your individuality, your gaze.
It's candid, detached and perhaps even unconscious to say this, but the sublime is reinforced by the harshness of life. Feeling too much is what it's all about.
Roughness, scratches of the blackboard astringent’s texture, of the stressed streets, of people moving, of rules, of consumerism and conservatism perceptions, of work, in a loop.
Anger doesn't allow me to write pretty words, it doesn't allow the nuance of a claire obscure. It's binary and rigorous. It works in the vigor of a pamphlet. So I would use photography as a pamphlet denouncing this society that's wresting time away from me. This oppressive system that suffocates my skin, which only wants to shiver. This structure framing wastelands with ungated enclosures.
This historical embrigade making lawn sold in rolls, with every blade of grass conforming to the one on the advertisement.
There is always someone who's feels too much so take your people in your arms.
2024