A forgotten story.Of someone, but we don’t know who it was.They had long lives or short lives. But we don’t know because no one ever asked them.We find traces and fading fingerprints of a life that was so important.

But now it’s just a story based on rumours and dusty hats.

Isn’t that amazing. How times and lives starts end ends, how we forget and repeat. We bulldoze and start on fresh, at the same place as someone else did before us.

We ask big questions about life, but to the wrong people. We could learn so much by asking the right ones, the ones leading the revolutions before us, struggling the same struggles but lived through them.

I document stories, searching for the hidden ones, make them come to surface, make them relevant again, adapted to our time of age.

I portrait people, places and things that can tell a different perspective. These searches are like looking for leads in a forgotten postbox, maybe some of them will hold an answer?