The photographs, like burns, remind me of other times in which I was weak. My photographs do not conceal depths of interpretation and do not reveal the method of action. They are transparent and point directly at me. Slight paces in reality that do not consolidate into a clear message. My inner world is revealed only but a little, and I can deceive the viewer by means of multiplicity and an appearance of defiant sexuality. Yet, in fact, these are my paces. These are the steps that I took. My memories, my childhood, and my loves.