How did you get here? You come every night, without previous notice, without even permission, and you enter. You wait until I’m alone in my bed, my eyes closed and my mind opened, and you stay.
Who are you? Are you my nightmares? Aren’t we supposed to be afraid of them? You come naked, faceless, all covered in smoke and dust. Are you some strange gods, I don’t believe in? Are you the monsters of my past, of the places I have not been yet? Or are you coming to talk about the present, this insensitive vacuum, which is everything that I feel? Even though, I’m not afraid.
What do you want? You don’t speak and it seems you have nothing to say. Do you think I find the silence awkward? Believe me, it is better this way.
Are you those strange creatures, full of habits I do not know, that I like to call myself? Are you my alter-egos, the supreme condemnation of what I believe in? Are you my fears, human specters with no name, no soul and no spirit?
Oh please, do come in! Welcome.
> These photos are part of the work Dust, made by Olivier Valsecchi (http://www.bdejanted.com).