And yet, because it was a photograph I could not deny that I had been there (even if I did not know where). This distortion between certainty and oblivion gave me a kind of vertigo, something of a “detective” anguish (the theme of Blow-Up was not far off); I went to the photographer’s show as to a police investigation, to learn at last what I no longer knew about myself.

Roland Barthes. Camera Lucida

I was intrigued by the ability of photography to compress the movements and the measure of time into something still.  Moments that are full of smells, tastes and vibrations are flattened into frozen 2D format that starts to represent respective memory. A photo keeps mechanically repeating the split second that can never be repeated again in real life. We start to remember the occasions in our lives by the pictures and not by the actual feelings that manifested in us in this moment. In this way, counter memories are born.