My wife Yoshino and I live in Italy, my native country. We met three years ago in Japan where she was born and grew up. In March 2020, in the early stages of the coronavirus pandemic, I suddenly felt a strong need to get to know her better, to be much closer and to always keep her with me even if only in my memories.
A desire for human connection and persistence that in the following months I would realise it resonated with many other people around the world. A world that eventually became smaller and closer. Almost familiar in a way. Not physically but emotionally.
By the middle of March I was carefully observing Yoshino’s little gestures and expressions day by day. Spontaneously photographing our intimacy and her discreet, silent, gently intense world. Not trying to depict her life as it is but as I feel it. As we feel it. And remember it.
Searching for a different kind of reality that often slips away or even denies itself to the distracted eye. A reality on the edge between a tangible, clearly defined experience and the elusive and distorted memory of it.
In the process, through the camera we are learning to love and to look at each other in a new way despite any threat hanging over us.