Dreaming is an organism in becoming, an exploration of the "here and now" that transforms the act of dreaming into a dimension of liberation. Here, the dream is a conscious escape from the boundaries of the self; an invitation to untie the knots of identity and surrender to a gentle shipwreck within the landscape, vanishing softly into it. My practice is nourished by a chromatic honesty that strips reality of the superfluous, focusing on the ancestral dialogue between the sun-drenched earth and the spontaneous purity of Mediterranean light. I choose to inhabit a deliberate "smallness," a radical humility that allows me to witness the world without the urge to label it, observing it in its essence.

In this grammar of dreams, every element becomes a symbol: the rocks, steeped in shadow, embody the hidden darkness of human thought, while the vivid white of the clouds represents the good—that vital flow that continues to pulse despite our torments. It is a tension that reaches its peak in the image of an old abandoned station: its sign, now illegible, no longer recites names or directions, but stands against a dissolving cloud, suggesting that imagination flourishes precisely where certainty fades.

In Basilicata, a land that guards vast spaces within the silence of depopulation, a rare opportunity opens to purify oneself from the noise of a society that forces us into constant comparison. In this apparent void, we find our true nature and the energy of a world made of living beings destined to exist for one another. By capturing dust, silence, and vibrating heat, I seek to document the dream as a physical and porous space: frames that do not merely show a territory but "make room" for the other, inviting them to fall in love with the ordinary. It is a challenge to boredom, an act of wonder against sensationalism, to return value to what is essential and never take anything for granted.

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