Why, human?

Every photo has a story:

“Why? Why? Why? Why? If I have more liberty. More independence. If I’ve evolved to reach the comfort that others could only dream of. Why? If I’m more intelligent. I’m capable of enjoying the perfume of a million aromas. I can dream.

Understand the depths of the sunrise, of a single word, of air, and the nothingness that completely fills my life.

I can transform myself. Lie. Generate repulsion and love, both at the same time. I am more. Much more than him. And yet, even at my height, his bold look says to me ‘Well, the truth is that the last can of food you’ve given me is absolutely dis-gus-ting. No need to reinvent the wheel, man. In fact, I want nothing to change. You got that?’”


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