It was in the afternoon, I was sitting on my grandpa’s couch. The door was slightly open and I saw light coming through, washed out between the white door and white walls.
John and Prova, my grandparents. They always loved the fact that I take pictures of them, because then I spend more time with them and they don’t feel lonely anymore. After Prova passed away, I try to visit more so John can talk. He tells me so many things about their early life, and how they met. There are so many stories.
Here, life is silent, suspended. Everything is on a wait. A wait for something that I don’t completely understand.