Reflections are images without bodies.

Existences that rely on a fragile surface to become visible, and that vanish as soon as the point of view shifts.

In this series, human presence appears only through mirrors and glass. We do not see the bodies that generate the image; we see only what remains from the encounter between light, surface, and memory. The reflection becomes the only possible place of existence.

Faces and gestures appear suspended, trapped within a layer that cannot be touched. They are images of a time that has already passed the moment it reveals itself. What we see is not the present, but an unstable permanence, always on the edge of disappearance.

Two bodies—connected by a shared love story—inhabit these images without ever fully asserting themselves. The yellow of the coats emerges as a residual sign, a thread of continuity within a space that no longer returns presence, only echo.

This series unfolds as a diary of absences. Each photograph records a feeling held within a reflection, a memory that does not settle in the body but on the surface that reflects it. Love, here, does not occupy space; it survives in what is only glimpsed in passing.

By refusing the direct body and accepting only the reflection, the images question the very idea of presence.

What remains when we are no longer there? Perhaps only what the gaze can hold for an instant—before it disappears.