Up to the roots

Italy stretches between latitudes 35° and 47°N, from the sun-schorched islands almost touching the coasts of North Africa to the snow-laden silence of the Alps. When we travel south we say we're going down. When we travel north we say we're going up, as if climbing a steep path. I was born in the north but spent a significant part of my adult life down, where I felt as if I had been born again. Yet every few months I returned up to the roots, to the place where I was supposed to belong, though never fully at ease.

This series is a visual exploration of that tension: a collection of images I took every time I went back home to capture the sense of belonging that I couldn't anchor to a specific place, but rather a resonance of childhood echos, footsteps sinking into damp leaves warmed by the autumn sun, and the breath of mist rising from the river.

Roots may hide deep beneath the surface, difficult to trace at certain stages of life. Yet they remain, invisible, unchosen, shaping our soul.