A journey not of distance, but of presence—of slowing down to match the pace of being. I began walking to find a reason, but soon realized that was only a pretext. What truly compelled me was a desire to be released from the speed of modern life. The acceleration I had grown used to had dried out my senses, distorting my perception of time and self.
At first, I saw pilgrims as isolating themselves from society. But over time, I began to see something else: people who had escaped urban alienation, choosing a life pared down to essentials, walking not to flee, but to reconnect. Their paths held a quiet resistance—an intentional disconnection from systems of excess.
This work is a visual document of that resistance. It weaves together fragments—personal histories unfolding along ancient roads, unanchored from grand narratives. The road becomes both archive and metaphor, a place where shared and solitary journeys intersect.
By recording these moments, I reflect not only on the act of walking, but on the search for meaning beyond speed, utility, and noise. This is a document of my steps, and of others who walk with questions, carrying silence as their companion.
Initially seen as a route of faith, it revealed itself to me as a theater of plural motivations: grief, transition, healing, exile, or the desire to simply disappear from the din of society. I came to see the Camino not as a linear trail, but as a nonlinear archive of contemporary inner migrations.
The Nonlinear project consists of three elements: the pilgrim’s body, a handwritten note stating their reason for walking, and the landscape that absorbs them both. Here, text is not a caption—it is the conceptual spine. It acts in tension and harmony with the image, forming a dual language of presence and absence.
The handwritten texts are not anecdotal. They are poetic testimonies that reflect personal ruptures, yet are always tethered to broader social conditions. Each phrase, fragile and specific, becomes a portal into a life shaped by unseen forces. These notes serve as curatorial devices—selecting the image, constructing the frame, guiding the edit.
This work is conceived as a long-duration practice. By revisiting the Camino every few years, I trace the emotional and ideological shifts that redefine the act of pilgrimage across time.
The works unfolds not as a documentary sequence, but as a spatial essay—where image and text oscillate, interrupt, and echo one another. The result is a layered meditation on faith, identity, exile, and the quiet defiance of walking. This is not a story of arrival. It is the archaeology of ongoing departure.