It takes time to look.

In 2015, after a long trip through India on a motorcycle – 6 months / 10,000 kilometers – I met again with the nomadic girl I photographed in 2009 during another of my trips.

Everything was going well until, as I approached what would be this meeting, I began to have problems with my camera.

I was not able to see, in India, the dimension of what had happened. I found out weeks later when, on my return to Barcelona, ​​I began to develop the rolls.

Seeing what had happened was, for me, painful and very disappointing. There was nothing in the photographs of what I had so eagerly hoped to see.

Only failures, mistakes, multiple exposures out of control and, above all, the feeling of having wasted time, of having wasted resources.

In 2018, relating these “failed images” to those made in other years, I had the intimate feeling that perhaps I had not been so wrong. The narrative potential of the images revealed itself as something stronger than the image itself. And I looked at the images with different eyes.

This is how I returned to the silence of the immensity of the overwhelming spaces that give rise to doubt about one’s own existence and to understand that, behind chance, the synchronicity of events, the non-chance and what escapes control, inhabits the soul of the world where I like to live.