She is fragile, sometimes insecure, sometimes strong as steel.
She uses only natural light.
She has the innate gift to catch that light.
And to transform, shape, move it as she pleases.
She has got a rare talent.
She can paint without paintbrushes.
And she can use pieces of souls, above all hers, to tell stories.
Her tears are as diamonds.
Her vision a mere therapy.
Maybe first of all for herself.
Which regenerates us, purifies us, through photographs
which, once they are defined, seem to come from ancient times.
Maybe from deep stratums.
Full of dark but with unexpected flashes of light which unveil the purest poetry.
Her need sometimes turns into urgencies.
And she begins to shoot.