“The photographer does not merely play with the apparatus — he is also played by it.”
— Vilém Flusser, Towards a Philosophy of Photography (1983)

In an age dominated by assertive, spectacular images, this essay calls for a different kind of photography — one rooted in uncertainty, silence, and perception. Against the authoritarian logic of the master-image, it explores a phenomenological approach that resists capture and reclaims the act of seeing.

In 2008, while working regularly in Panama, I spent ten days sailing through the Kuna Yala archipelago. Beyond the postcard beauty of the islands, I discovered a fragile world—where the Guna people live between tradition and modern pressure, resilience and constraint. A journey that challenged my romantic ideas of remoteness.

The series. The place. The hut. The words that never came.
(July ’49 — Celan meets Heidegger. A poem remains. A sentence is missing.)

I come from there. Or from nearby. So: not innocent.
The forest Heidegger gazed upon — I breathed it.
Not by choice. By origin.

This is how I work—through resonances, through subtle shifts. Only later does the whole begin to take shape, a title emerges, a sense begins to surface. I move slowly, guided by intuition, inner echoes, traces left by the world.