112 pages, hardcover
words by Zornitsa Hristova
In every landscape there’s the story of a journey.
The point that draws the eye. The dark spots leading to it.
The roadside gifts you cannot take with you.
The question: how is the world going to look when I get there?
What will my starting point look like?
It’s the same with portraits.
Especially with the portrait of someone you love.
You wish you’d gotten up early enough, you wish you had
departed on time.
You wish you hadn’t missed anything.
You wish you were able to travel in both directions,
you wish you could lay a ford under the deep waters,
you wish you could sit down under the blossoming tree
whose sour fruits are so sweet to taste.
You search for traces of the fragility you’ve wanted to keep.
To make bullet-proof.
In your face I can see the impatience to be on your way,
and in that moment I know
I am here.