With time I have grown less and less fond of photographs. They freeze lost yesterdays, they represent laughter but they are not laughter, they represent a moment when the moment is gone. They remind you of how time touches everything and how it's impossible to recover even a bit of past. They create the false hope of a world in which you think you can live if you look at them long enough, the world of a moment past, silent, still. They create in you a vivid memory and at the same time a forgetting that comes from relying too much on that image you wanted to preserve. They remind you of pieces of time you wish you could tightly grasp, the same way an empty room or a familiar smell might. You cannot live inside a photograph. And that's the issue.