What does a photo, that is not there, tell? It tells of a distance, of an unsteady geometry that has not been able to connect the photographer with the subject. But most of all, it tells us of a defeat consumed in the bulimia of shots that digital photography invites you to. This point is crucial. Those fractions of time, those equally unrepeatable moments, however, are doomed to be forgotten, as if the words we do not recognize would disappear from paper, lifted by the wind; the truest words, perhaps, but which in the economy of history are oblique, alienating, different. Exile is ready for photos that we do not “recognize”. I imagine them anything but unhappy to tell their stories, the vicissitudes, the sense of those moments that you want to be cancelled. I imagine telling their secrets, who knows. But certainly no one will have lost the awareness of being part of a story that has not yet finished being told.