THE WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD

There are cities that welcome you without asking for anything. Oslo had that effect on me: silent, rarefied, it let me wander through its streets as if it already knew I wasn’t looking for anything specific. Maybe just a reflection, an echo of myself.

Walking through its neighborhoods, past the neon lights of bars, the cold wind from the fjord, and the windows glowing like theater stages, I realized how much I feel like the protagonist of The Worst Person in the World. The film, shot right here, speaks of a sense of disorientation that I know well. It’s not about wrong choices or regrets, but about that suspended feeling between who I was and who I might become. As if every decision inevitably left behind a version of myself.

Oslo has become my inner landscape. In my photos, there are moments stolen from the city, but above all, from myself: the contrast between golden light and concrete, reflections in puddles, blurred details. Each shot is a fragment of this journey through my own disorder, through the uncertainty of someone who doesn’t yet know if they are living their first chapter or if they have already passed the turning point without realizing it.