The last photos of my diary are Canary Wharf. There we whirled around in a hair-raising vertical building, according to a choreography that was never learned, workers and passers-by, stores and offices. It was the place of places, it was no place.
Halfway through the dyiar, “the annotation of real or imagined events that followed a regular line, although it is not strictly a daily chronicle.” The photographs are like stitches of thread that make up the story of my trip. It emerged, here and there, without a calendar or maps, only in order to rescue from time the importance of the instant. Lewis Hine commented once that “if I could tell it with words, I would not need to carry a camera.” To speak, to narrate, to name are halfway measures for us to adapt to that which is strange. My photographs are my words, but they are not only words. Keep going articulates voices, gestures, emotions, … mine and also of others – those who are on the other side of the lens – united by my gaze. This gaze tries to recover individual lives from the passage of time, but that does not seek the impossible, to keep awake its nature. My photographs do not attempt to explain the world, only to portray what we find in it. In this way, the images of this diary weave a secret bond, a mesh that envelopes everyone, upsetting our previous positions. One (re)unites, by saying this, in the fictitious space of photographic paper, whose elements allow us to recognize ourselves as persons through, above all, our particular biographies. The project is called keep going, seguir adelante, because this is where it is, here and there, open your eyes and do not become tired of looking. Although you are tired of the city, you are not tired of looking or living.