My father at night. He could not sleep and wandered in the house.
I have photographed my father during his illness because I hadn't done it when I should have.
I have photographed my father because I couldn't look at him without hiding behind the camera, withholding my emotions,
postponing them to a private, secret thereafter. I have photographed suffering before, but then I was following my inner fire,
holding my camera like a sword, now it had become my shield. His illness put a stop to the countless incomprehensions among
us.There was no time for arguments anymore, only time to declare my love.