POSTCARDS FROM A WORLD THAT NO LONGER EXISTS
We live in a time where everything happens at a speed we can barely process. In the middle of that constant urgency, old things have always stopped me: letters, photographs, objects that somehow survived time.
I often wonder who once held them, what they felt, what their lives were like when writing a letter was an act of devotion rather than something to fear.
Today, instead, we sometimes avoid even sending a message — afraid of exposing ourselves, afraid of not being validated. Intimacy has become a fragile territory, shaped by endless comparisons and a digitalized society that often feels louder than it is human.
It moves me to think about how much the way we love has changed — and how much we may have lost along the way.
In a world where everything is instant, where time flies by, old things have always captured my attention.
I wonder what they meant to the people who once owned them, who the people in those photographs were, what their lives must have been like.
It’s incredible to think that lovers once sent each other letters. Letters that last forever.
And now we barely allow ourselves to send a message, afraid of exposing ourselves, of feeling too much, of not being validated.
We live comparing ourselves, children of a digital and contaminated society.
Almost no one sends letters anymore. Photos are rarely printed. And a simple gesture of affection is often perceived as excessive.
Sometimes I wonder what those who lived in those times would think if they could see the world we live in now.
