Castelo do Queijo, Matosinhos, Porto, Portugal. 20/01/2023. . There is a storm brewing in the horizon. The text and images of such storm are still forming, like the wind that howls before the tempest. It’ll be a presentation on things that affect me deeply as a person in a never-ending quest of social belonging. But that is a text for another day. . For today, I want to talk about dreams. Or better, the lack of them. During my life I’ve never had a north, a bigger goal, something to pour my life into. Of course, there are smaller things I wanted to accomplish, like graduate, get a job, emigrate, buy something, know somewhere. . But, in the end, what is the bigger goal? There is nothing there. Only emptiness, hollowness. But would that be a problem only I have? Or is it the reflex of a broken society in a brittle being? The disfunction applied to the disfunctional. . Through photography, I’m able to wander around and see that, even though I belong in a civilization that I’m not sure can accommodate me, there is a beautiful world to be seen. People with gorgeous stories to be told, dispairs to bleed, loves to love, lives to live. And here I am observing this dance without knowing how to dance. Then I observe and photograph the dances of this life in the hopes of someday finding my own place. . Forever echoing the words “you don’t speak much, huh?”. Yeah, maybe I don’t. .