"When I had to look at them closely through the lens, bound by the brief of an assignment, I was faced with details that I hadn’t noticed in a long time. I might have been only seeing their silhouettes and not beyond. The mole on my mother’s chin. The little cut on my father’s lip. Their postures and gestures. Their skin and the passage of time showing on it. It was a subtle but arresting feeling that change is constant and everyone has to go one day. That even while being away from home for fifteen years, I have forever been soaked in nostalgia. The smell of first rain. Winter sun. Guava trees. Our days, planned around sunrises and sunsets. It’s more than nostalgia. It’s an unspoken love that remains unexpressed in words, maybe revealed instead in these photographs.
