“Writting at Releva-T’s blog about the pinhole world is quite a responsability. It’s my New Year’s resolution -I’m going to write often, regularly-. I haven’t been able to write a weekly post at my own blog (I haven’t even started, even updating Facebook is too stressful for me). At least making posts with a certain compromise, but less often, would force me to write. I hope to talk about pinhole photography from different points of view, technical, interviews, personal and other people’s experiences. This first post I think it should be different. A different view, a small tale. A small gesture of complicity towards all of us who enjoy watching the world through the hole of a camera obscura. I think that futures entries to this blog will be more orthodox. I hope you enjoy it.


Some weeks ago the bandages had been already removed. He still couldn’t see. He couldn’t even remember when he decided to stop seeing, if it was deliberate or just some sort of self-defence. He was overwhelmed by the past events, reality was too much for him. It was some sort of surrender.

Doctors told him that everything was going to be ok, he was always suspicious. The ordeal of tests and operations were useless. He got only some comfort with the nurses. They spoke his same language, they were understanding and friendly. When they treated him they managed to give him some relax hard to explain. That was good in those days of inner storms.

They became his eyes, those eyes that now refused to see. They explained him everything that was happening around him. They don’t only put him where he needed to be for his daily tasks, they also explained him first-hand everything that was going at the other side of the window. The exterior was disheartening; shoots, bombs, far away massacres and nearby cynicism, freedoms limited by absurd laws. A long time ago greed finished most of the natural resources. The illness was spreading hopelessly. News that came through the official channels were complete lies. Pundits only saw the shit that people on top wanted to be seen. From the outside, only he sound of death, corruption, despair, intolerance and hate. When he peeked through the window he couldn’t see.

He was fortunate with the outside connection provided by those women. Mainly Monica; her words, her touch, her smell, those were the only reasons that kept him alive. When fear and discouragement got him, she was the rope where he cling. Nothing was important anymore, but he knew that once the night shift started she will be there and she would put a tiny light in the huge darkness. Doctors didn’t understand what was failing. His eyes worked perfectly, the nerves reacted to light, his pupils opened or closed when the pen shaped lantern approached or moved away from them. But he was in the more absolute darkness. Nurses knew it exactly, there was nothing worth seeing for him. The outsider world overwhelmed him, it was too incomprehensible for a sensibility like his.

After a lot of tests, the doctors gave up. They couldn’t do anything else, they threw in the towel. When they told him their decision, his reaction was between resignation and rage. He knew that he would never again see the decay of human race. He also know, unfortunately, that he would never see the color of Monica’s eyes, and he would never agains see all those things that once gave sense to his existence.

It was then and not before when Monica, the soft hands and sweet voice nurse, decided to rescue him from the darkness. She knew how to get him out of there. The beauty would save him.

If he really wanted to get out from his current condition, he would have to  let himself go and make his adaptation to the dark room; strange name if the deal was to be able to see again. There his mind would adapt itself again to see images. Puzzled, he accepted, there wasn’t anything else he could do.

There he was, naked in the middle of the room, standing, freezing. Hours passed and he didn’t notice anything. A strange sadness invaded him. Alone, with nobody to explain him was was around him, he started to look in the room. There wasn’t anything. He hit hard the walls. Felt them with despair, anxiously. Finally his index finger felt something at his eye level. His heart beat fast. It was a small hole, tiny, his finger couldn’t enter it. He moved his finger around it. Watching carefully he started to see that light was entering through it and slowly was getting more intense. A shiver ran along his body. Coldness disappeared; he felt an intense heat. An enjoyable feeling of wellness embraced him. He took some steps back and turned around. In front of him, against the wall, the world was projected upside-down, and his shadow was in the middle. He could see again, and he was watching reality upside-down. That was pure magic; that beauty gave him goosebumps. A tear started to pour from his new eyes.

Photography by Jon Andoni Martín and video from Romain Alary , Stenop.es