For years I have had this tendency of taking pictures in cemeteries. I haven’t taken many, it’s true, but have spent hours taking pictures in cemeteries, in Rome, in Paris, in Porto… And I always looked particularly for one thing: angels’ statues.

Those statues in cemeteries, some of them of great beauty and expression, were meant for the dead. Pieces of art never intended to be amongst the living. By taking pictures of some of them I always had in my mind the intention of one day putting together an exhibition. That way, what was produced for the dead would find somehow a way into the world of the living, where their beauty could be appreciated by many more. Angels would, then, find a way into this world again, sort of saying...

And now, my love, you’re in a cemetery too, resting eternally. I have not taken pictures of yours – I wonder if I will ever do that again somewhere – but the irony of it is that now, in Vlkanová where you rest, lies the most beautiful angel I could ever imagined existing. The only one I can never photograph anymore, who loved me and was much loved by me.

Yesterday I woke up tired from a sleep filled with dreams, and today I dreamt I had fallen in the Danube, lost my camera, where I had all my pictures of our last Christmas together, and suddenly you came from nowhere just to help me, and I was crying... And then I had lost your ring too, but that one you found, and when you picked it up it wasn’t a ring anymore but a beautiful necklace with silver petals... Pain does not stop! Also several times, everyday, some moment comes to my mind, some expression of yours, some sound, some conversations, some intimate moments. And then I miss you, and then it hurts, and so here I am constantly learning what it means to be really alone.

I love you Lea.