Karenina Fabrizzi

The other day, I was taking the metro in Barcelona. As I stepped into a crowded carriage, a woman entered just beside me. She had a severe deformation in her back that made walking difficult, and she moved slowly and carefully through the people around us. Almost instinctively, I looked towards the seats. I thought: surely someone will stand up. But nobody did. Most of the people sitting there were looking at their phones, endlessly scrolling through images, stories, messages, whatever it was...

There are periods in life when, almost without realizing it, we slowly move away from the things that make us feel most like ourselves. Not because we have stopped loving them, and not because the passion has disappeared, but simply because life takes over. Other endeavors require our attention, responsibilities accumulate, our energy moves in different directions, and suddenly the intimate connection we once had with our creative practice becomes quieter. Perhaps this distance is necessary...

There is a map far older than the one we find in books or on paper, and this map is in our bodies. It does not mark roads or borders. Instead, it traces the invisible paths of our experiences, our emotions, the people we have loved, the places that transformed us, and the countless moments that quietly shaped who we have become. I often think that our bodies remember far more than our minds do. A familiar scent can suddenly transport us decades into the past. A place we haven't visited for...