Ensnared in measuring the dimension of time as a linear flow, often accompanied by a visual-spatial representation, we make a mistake: we overlook the characteristic that, more than any other, can truly give meaning to a logic otherwise reduced to the inevitable, inexorable, and obvious rhetoric of "everything flows." This characteristic, capable of pinning time to its categories while simultaneously dismantling them, is turbulence. The present becomes past in the moment we even have a microscopic perspective to read and evaluate it. The future, so intensely feared, awaited, or desired, becomes present sooner than expected. In the past, those with attentive and sincere eyes find reasons and causes with a decent degree of accuracy. Turbulence, however, offers the great opportunity to compose new and unprecedented combinations, to establish cause-and-effect relationships, to accept stringent logics, but also, and above all, to preserve vast margins of doubt: where it is neither possible nor desirable nor necessary to provide an explanation.

And it is precisely in the turbulent rush of our times, of which man is the main architect, and in which technological evolution often takes the form of a technological revolution, that the sensitivity of the photographer finds ample inspiration. There is a dual truth linked to time: that of a traditional world that is completely absorbed, standardized to the ISO standard of the only possible globality; and that of a new primary need, understood as nourishment and breath, which consists of safeguarding, protecting, and transmitting the heritage of territories and peoples. Without which, it is important to specify, every form of technological development loses meaning. A hand draws from the basin of history, still pulsating, and pours its best contents into the chaos of progress that has never been so frenetic.