Living on an island has its things. For some, it has to do with limitations whereas for others for its possibilities. Limitations to movement, but the possibility to stop and reflect. This perception, which exists in the idea of the 'island' is unique, yet it differs depending on the person who experiences it. The effect is usually felt through the landscape, it pierces through those who observe and feel it. Many people rapidly create a connection with the pace of life in a place like this, a strong bond with a landscape that works as a vehicle to sense that strange perception of time. Many others have an awkward approach, a sort of anxiousness towards the environment and the landscape, creating uneasiness in their minds and causing them the need to leave and find places with more distractions and leisure.

If we reflect upon the notion of Time, we end up discovering how little we comprehend. Leaving aside watches and numbers that guide us in order to organise our routines, we do not know a great deal about it. It only provides us with the meaning of the beginning and the end. Therefore, for some reason, time here moves within us in a different way. It flows within our hearts and minds so we can perceive it in a more long-lasting manner. Michel Houellebecq describes this feeling perfectly in the following quote: 'Nothing changes on the island. Has everything already changed? Or is it an eternal come-back of destiny marked by fate?' 

Although I have lived all my life in Gran Canaria, I am currently in Lanzarote - an island which leads me to think about this feeling. Here, I have a sense of liberation and connection with the landscape which I am not quite able to explain - I let myself go. And this is how the project started, drifting through the island, walking with my camera, and taking pictures of whatever calls my attention. 

Stemming from this impulsive intuition, the piles come to life. Mirages that appear on the horizon and define the course of time, so characteristic on the island. Piles that on the one hand lie about their identity, and on the other hand, speak metaphorically of the trace and oblivion of Time.