Florina: A place where silence thickens and holds its own light, a space between presence and absence, where what remains continues to breathe.
Florina is a place where silence has weight and acquires texture.
It spreads across the mountains, the lakes, the empty houses, the bodies that withdraw.
It is a place of return — not out of nostalgia, but out of a need to feel what remains.
Silence is the sound after the sound, the gaze after the gaze, what is left when everything comes to an end.
It is the fragile moment between presence and absence, the visible and the intangible, where time does not pass but lingers.
This series emerged through wanderings across landscapes of memory:
cemeteries, abandoned buildings, mines, shop windows, the theatre, my mother — places where light does not reveal but remembers, spreading, bending, insisting upon surfaces.
The gaze rests on what has remained — on the body that no longer moves, the animal that breathes quietly, the object that remembers its owner. In these landscapes, silence is not emptiness; it is a form of communication.
Silence in the images is not stillness but an invisible movement: the breath of the place, the resonance of the body within time.
It arises from the pristine and from the remnants, from what has endured or yielded.
Within these places, there is a heroic endurance — a force that does not shout, but persists.
For silence is not a lack; it is a mature strength.
The strength of place, of time, of light, when everything else has fallen quiet.