Gypsies from Greece

There are many more doors on earth than humans. Seen from afar, it looks like we like order, good order, and that we tolerate constraint to the point where we find pleasure in locking ourselves up. Or maybe we have always been a little afraid of the wind and the cold, of wild animals, like strangers, neighbors, thieves and even prying eyes.

In any case, we take it for granted that, on the other hand, it cannot be the same. The threshold of the door is a border, and the door marks the difference. Sometimes we hesitate to cross it, sometimes it invites us to open it. But as we well know, the doors all open to the other.

Bernard Arcand

One day, Haris Diamantidis, decides to stop and push the door that opens onto the gypsy camps around Lamia, Volos, Komotini or Kalamata, attracted by the interior scent of these places.

On tiptoe, making so little noise, he discreetly enters, his eyes sparkling because he knows the strength of this moment. With the lens in hand, ready to pick up this peculiar synchronic movement, consciousness leads it to grasp that movement is the only permanence.

Moved by the melodious sound of this movement knocking on his door, Haris lets him in and begins to play…

A game made of paradoxes and contradictions. Exclusion, margin, desolation. But at the same time, beauty, smiles, faces sculpted by the wind, by time.

Here we are at the heart of life.

Marco Solari