Time of sleepless nights, fearing the film rolls are empty, is over. No more fantasizing about accidental masterpieces either. Here they are. They survived all the security checks x-ray machines, the cold and the dust: my hasselblad afghan portraits. And all memories overwhelm me finally again. Feelings of a strange dream transform in clear images. Not just on glossy paper. Memories of sounds, temperatures and smells are all here. It's like I confined my feelings into the rolls (as a protection?) and now, as rubbing Aladin's lamp, they magically return intact and unaffected. Pure. And I LOVE photography more then everything else. Not for it's memorizing role. For being what it is. Only images in the end. Bidimensional notes about a short moment, trying to record a relationship, a tension. And here we are sitting in Phoveas office, three around a table, sipping some beers (very strange, yes) and rearranging clichés to form a series. Our expressions like the ones chess players must have: waiting for the turn to make a move. Displacing one photo, putting it next to another; exclude a face, bring in a glance and everything gets a new meaning. I longed for so long and wanted so much this moment when we would be editing work toghether as a team. And even if our website is still not ready to be online, I am already now very proud of Phovea. Secretly proud of myself having found the power to start this for real. And of course lucky having found friends crazy enough for following and still not letting go. No doubts this days about being a photographer! Great assignments ahead. Great feeling. And total faith.