the Fates

Last summer I spent some days with family in my father’s birthplace, a small village in the mountains. During one afternoon walk, my daughter and I stumbled upon an old abandoned house. It was very easily accessible and seemed safe, so I went in to take a look. It had been a really long time since I last took my camera and went outside to take a self portrait. It looked so beautiful that I decided to come back, on my own this time, to take a self portrait.

It was a modest family home typical of the village. The first foor, that was where the family lived, was essentially one big room with a wooden wall separating a small part of it. The old wooden floors were creaky, but intact. The light came pouring through the windows and there was a cabinet built in the wall on the far end much like the one in my grandfather’s home.

While I was walking around and taking my shots I wondered: Who lived here? Were these walls filled with joy, struggle, or the echoes of laughter? Did they ever imagine their home would one day be silent and forgotten?

While editing these shots, three ghostly figures emerged, eerie and captivating, almost like the mythological Fates—silent witnesses to the past, holding the threads of its story. 

Prints of this image are available.