This work is about the quiet distance and the invisible price we pay for the right to choose our own path. In the context of immigration, FaceTime is no longer just a tool for communication; it becomes an instrument that distorts time. It offers a fleeting illusion of presence: while it is still light and I am having lunch, my family on the other side of the screen is already sitting down for dinner.
For me, the lives of my loved ones cease to be a continuous flow, shattering instead into fragments—a series of frozen frames. I catch them only in «permitted» moments, when they have the strength, the time, and the desire to appear «normal.» Everything that happens between these calls—the routine, the struggles, the true current of life—falls into a void I cannot reach. Video calls do not restore lost time; they only sharpen the ache of its absence.
Within this space, I am merely a bystander. I watch them live their lives, while they see me unchanging: frozen at my desk against a blank white wall. The sterility of my world stands in stark contrast to the chaos and warmth of the kitchen—the place where our togetherness was once felt most deeply. The scene I have staged in that kitchen is steeped in symbolism: every mundane action of my family members serves as a metaphor for the events and meanings from which I am now excluded. It is an attempt to capture what I lack and to acknowledge that even the most perfect image on a screen remains just a beautiful frame, hiding the silence of separation.
Digital photography via FaceTime
