Monthly
Sergio Moratilla
A walk through solitude
A walk through solitude

Monthly

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Who makes the memories?

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Do you know that every time you remember something, you change that memory somehow? It’s biology, when a neuronal path is accessed, it is strengthened in some way. It is amazing. You recall a story and before you have finished telling it, it is changed in your brain. Forever. No turning back. It is a bit biased now.

Think about it. Every time you go over and over a bad memory, you make it worse. It totally depends on your current mood. So… who made that memory? The one who you were when you lived that, or the one that you are every time you relive it?

How much can I change a memory if I carry it on?

PD: Thank you Sofi for your suggestions!!

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Ready to bite the big apple

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When I travel abroad, I sometimes feel like a little town boy. Scared of not being enough or not knowing enough. I am afraid of screwing it or getting completely lost. But, isn’t it the point of travelling at all?

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So when I stepped on New York city I thought it would be… overwhelming. But it wasn’t. Is it huge? Absolutely. Is it full of skyscrapers? Yes, it is. Probably overcrowded and rushed. But in a strange way it felt like home.

Maybe I’m ready. Ready to finally live abroad. Ready to bite the big apple.

PD: Visiting New York is like visiting a movie, so that I loaded CineStill 800 in my old Leica M2. Hope you enjoy the grain and the overly contrasted tones :)

Remember the hurt

Make mistakes, learn from 'em.

And when life hurts you, because it will,
remember the hurt.

I can’t believe what just happened. I have quoted Stranger Things. It is not among my favourite TV shows but that speech… left me heartbroken. Because I remember. I remember a lot.

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I remember all this shitty winter. Every time I get a shot under a dim sunbeam from my window. And I remember that lack of light spending all day working under a roof or into a train tunnel. Surrounded by people but alone.

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I remember my grandfather. Every time I shoot his camera. I remember him every time I develop a frame at home and think “Hey, I bet that I’m now better than you were”. But we will never know, because I’d never shot a camera before he died.

Yes, damn Hopper, I remember all the hurt. Because with every chance I get, I photograph it.

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A walk through solitude

English is wonderful. There are so many words we don’t have in Spanish. For instance, we don’t distinguish between solitude and loneliness. Let me explain myself. We know the feelings, but we don’t have different words for each other. So that, when someone says she is “lone”, I can’t be sure whether she is enjoying her solitude or suffering her loneliness.

That is my very feeling when I see these photos of Eva.

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