I did not photograph trees. I encountered bodies. Scarred, twisted, opened by time and human hands. Forms that have learned how to survive without asking. To photograph was not to observe, but to enter a threshold. To let myself be crossed. Each image holds a presence — silent, resistant, alive. A fragment of time that refuses to disappear. Xolivo is an offering. A song for vegetal beings who continue to stand where everything else has passed.
