Nobody warned about the aleas of film editing. I should have known it would be that inscribed in pain and doubt, when long walks around the sea and on the edge of mountains cannot calm the mind ....until it is there. Because the rushes of a film, raw and unforgiving in what it wants to be cannot be silenced, the images'scent and the sounds' dance speak an unknown language or at least secret to the one who comes with eyes fixed on windows already drawn.
Editing the short film Salt Wound, my first, is not just a cliche of having a new born, it is a mirror of one's existence, it fuels all sorts of desire for creation, wildly and abruptly cutting off all possibility of sleep. As if childhood, adolescence and adulthood live in the transitions of events captured and taste of the colour they are painted in. It is not a memory anymore but a gathering around the unique point in time of self-in-the-world and world-in-becoming.