Once upon a time…

… and who knows if there will ever be again.

It’s a thought that stuck with me as I looked at this photo. It didn’t come to me by chance.

For months, I hadn’t been able to find images like I used to. Not the ones that really make me stop in my tracks, not the ones I feel I can call “mine” without hesitation.

Time has something to do with it, of course. But that’s not enough to explain it. 

It’s as if something is missing at the start, when usually something is born, but instead nothing happens.

I often pass through the same places, watching the same things drift by without really seeing them.

That courtyard is one of those places: I cross it on foot, always just passing through, never really stopping to think about it. And yet, on that December day, I stopped. 

Without a clear reason, or perhaps precisely because of that.

There was a rose.

It wasn’t the right season, and it showed. Everything around it had already shifted its rhythm, while SHE was still there, as if time had forgotten her. She wasn’t perfect, not fully open. But she had a quiet presence, enough to hold my gaze.

I stopped just long enough.

In those days, I thought that perhaps I would write the last post on this blog. Not a real decision, more of a feeling that was slowly taking hold. Like when something is quietly fading away and you don’t know if it will return.

Then, looking at this photo, I realized that maybe I was looking for an answer where there was no need for one.
That rose was there, out of season, yet without a single hesitation. She wasn't wondering if it was the right time. She was just there.

Maybe that’s what comes back to me every now and then, too. Not continuity, not certainty. Just a small sign, enough to pause for a moment and recognize that something, despite everything, is still there.

I didn’t know if there would really be a sequel. If other images would come, other thoughts to line up.

But as long as I happen to pause like this, even just for a moment, maybe the story isn’t over yet.

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer .” (Albert Camus)