I was sent there for the healing waters. My mysterious employers offered me this assignment as a gift because they knew that my energy levels were depleting after so many inter-dimensional travels. I was grateful but I wasn’t seeing any results on myself, to be honest. But there was this man that me and a fellow investigator had noticed sitting always in the same position in a beach bar that was called Sorrento. We had figured that his indian name was “The one who sits” as we were “The ones who came”. One morning I took a long was after sunrise and I found myself in Sorrento. “The one who is sitting” was coming out of the water and a few seconds later in his place I saw a young woman fishing. And then I knew that I was transformed, because what we see is us, really…
It was the 15th of August and I was photographically investigating the usual suspects, while preparing myself for a long trip to Rio. I was reading Neville Goddard’s “Prayer: The art of believing” and I found myself reading the same excerpt again and again: “Subjectively, the object of your desire is never far off. Rather, it’s intense nearness makes it remote from the observation of the senses. It dwell’s in consciousness and consciousness is closer than breathing and nearer than your hands and your feet”. Exactly like the objects of my photographic investigations…
In reality I am talking about this wonderful August, with it’s sudden cool breeze that made me feel like I was walking on the shore… My subjects were ready to depart for their summer holiday and although their bodies were still here, their thoughts were totally there. I wasn’t investigating anything in particular, it was just a lazy Sunday in between assignments and I was grateful for the summer, for life, the universe and everything…
It was a bad 1984 french film with Valérie Kaprisky. But then, everything that reminds us of our youth is seen through a "summer of innocence" filter, as I call it, that feels like the seventies summer films yellow hue looks like... The past is reinvented every time we recall it, and this was one of these times. It was summer in Venice and I was investigating this delicate and sweet young artist, an ethereal presence that decided to take off her shoes and move playfully... And then I saw them. The medusas. It was the first time they were seen in Venice and everyone thought it was a good omen. The incident had a french Riviera feel to it, just like this old movie. I thought it was a good omen as well.
And the living is easy... The leaving from Athens as well... I wasn't really investigating... Just enjoying that magical dreamy atmosphere, very characteristic of August... People getting ready for their summer vacation, other just coming back and others just dropping by before their next destination... Exchange of dreams, show of tan lines, friendly massages, bronzed legs, laughter, anticipation, the hope of the best holiday ever, impossible mathematic calculations in order to make money last... Just the old plain summer magic...
Sometimes a Photographic Investigator finds herself in between assignments and they wander around observing. Everything is really amazing when you are silently observing it. Unfortunately, old habits die hard, so I ended up investigating two people… Luckily, it happened in Burano, so I did it in colour. So, one thing was out of the ordinary.
Having spend endless amazingly lazy summer days reading noir and mystery novels on the beach, I thought the beach should itself be noir, for a change…Thankfully, the few people that were around me that day, didn't notice… And like so many noir novels, that day started softly, warm and breezy and ended tempestuously, abruptly and lonely…
