There are places that seem to exist outside of time — where things are left unfinished, and yet, in their incompletion, they feel more true. Puglia is one of those places. Stone, dust, light — everything stands half-way between the sacred and the ordinary. When you arrive, you feel both lost and strangely at home. The world pares itself down to essentials: heat, silence, the weight of history pressing lightly on the present. You begin to see that nothing here pretends. The beauty is raw, unpolished, patient. This work was born from that feeling — of being new somewhere, without the comfort of certainty.
The photographs are experiments as much as they are impressions: fragments of light, doubled exposures, attempts to capture what resists definition. In this land, culture is not displayed — it is lived. Faith is not decoration — it is woven into gestures, into the way people endure, eat, wait. Wealth is measured not in things, but in closeness. To photograph here is to learn humility. The light reveals everything, even what you didn’t mean to show. And perhaps that is the lesson of this place: to see without trying to understand, to accept what is bare and still call it complete.
