It comes to you slowly when you wake in the morning, when you fade away at night. It comes to you like a seizure when you fall in love, in pain, in silence, whenever you fall out of time into your deeper self.
As soon as you cross the invisible border, you are overtaken by a strange awareness of belonging to some essential truth lying behind the prevailing versions of reality.
There, in the non-space of light, you get to see "inside" what you see.
But what you grasp, you wouldn't know how to say. You just wouldn't know.

We therefore owe much to those who bring forth the landscapes of our soul, who rescue us with images to fill the void in us of what remains unspoken.
We are indebted to poets because they help us bridge the gap across to the blind zone where our doubts, hopes and fears yearn to be sung, where they need to be shaped, shared and apprehended.

Poets are not only gifted with light but with the stength to embrace it.
They dive into it.
They let themselves be struck, they surrender to blindness. For it is only in utter darkness that light is willing to undress and reveal itself; it is only when bodily eyes close, that the soul can open up to host the timeless glow. And, by sharing the vision, poets help us heal the solitude of spiritual muteness.

Luca Pagliari stands among these rare lightdivers who give form to emptiness. There is a mysterious underflowing passion in his images that shoots you beyond the picture, into the treasures of darkness.
You are taken away to another shore of reality where you can smell beauty and hear the silence of decay, the swiftness of our passage on earth.
By receiving the unexpected glow as a guest, at the merging of photography and philosophy, he opens the door to photosophy, where images become lightmarks for the journey.