I learned about God before I learned about death.
He lived in a church. His voice sounded in the sinking of the choir. He smelled of wax and incense. He looked at me from the icons. He sat next to me and waited for Mom to light some candles and we would go home. I was about five or six years old.
I’ve lost him over the years.
My photos are a search for what happened in childhood. This is a personal dialogue with God, which is not always reflected in the speech of those who broadcast his will. An attempt to find God and forgive him. This is an attempt to love with open eyes and return to childhood. To the light.