When the load you carry is love, luggage is not heavy and the road is not tiring.

Is it really so? How many of these loads are imposed on us? Why? By whom? Love-loads that can always be carried, bearing in mind they may soon be dropped. The same load may at times be extremely heavy, or light, subtle, ethereal at others.

In any case, what is left is the mark, the trace, the pieces of what will become something.

I made this series drifting from my inner self to my most immediate family circle. I felt, observed, looked, let go of some or held some others tight.
After all, I am tied to my loved ones by an invisible thread. And it stretches and becomes thinner when I feel they are stronger or gets thicker and shortens rapidly when I sense anyone needs a hand.