The name of this book came to me while reading "Sekala & Niskala", by Fred B. Eisman Jr., a book that talks about the visible and invisible aspects of life in Bali.

It struck me during the chapter about trance in the island, given that since the beginning of this project, I had been becoming increasingly aware of the trance-like state I would get into while working on some of my photographs.

It usually went down in a similar fashion:

I would be either driving or walking down a street. Looking at my surroundings, trying to take in as much as I could, when suddenly, out of the chaos, a trigger would pop up that sent me straight into action — sometimes a color, sometimes an object; some other times, no more than a mere intuition.

This was one of the hardest parts of the process — to stop questioning the reasons behind a trigger, to quiet the mind and allow myself to be taken by the spirit of inspiration.

I wasn't always successful but, when I managed to get past the blockages, magic ensued.

The more open I let myself be, the more would be revealed to me. The less I tried to impose my own perceptions over what was already there, the less I tripped myself  over.

Glued to a scene, one eye closed, switching between the viewfinder and my naked vision, shaking wildly whenever things were not going nicely or absolutely enthralled by the experience of being in the presence of that which is beyond words.

In doing this, I sometimes spent much more time than I'm willing to admit without sounding like a maniac.

As much as I'd like to say that it was me the sole author of this book, I must admit, I've been nothing but a joyful witness.

A necessary actor to play the role of the doer in a universal puppet show, while the strange visitations linger behind every source of light and shadow.

With time, I've come to understand these strange visitations as some sort of gift, given to me as a reward for learning how to notice, for trusting even as the pain of uncertainty strikes my heart.

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