Memories are our most valuable possessions; maybe because of the familiarity that radiates from within our brains each time we navigate through the deepest corners of our minds, or maybe because of the sense of safety that we get every time we relive the raw, intense emotions of our younger selves. When the adulthood that used to flood our most ambitious dreams back when we were kids becomes too much for us to handle, we all return to the safest place that we know: our mother’s embrace.

My mother is my guardian angel, an omniscient hero whose power had no limits. The folds in her dress are the strongest shield while her loving hands are braiding dreams of the future in my hair, her lap supporting me on my way to the stars. Wherever I go, whatever I feel, my mother is right by my side, and I feel as if she and I are one; as if I am my mother.

My mother is my savior, a helping hand whenever I’m in need. Her feet steady on the ground like the roots of the strongest tree as she stands tall even after my most furious storms, her arms always ready to catch me when I fall. No matter how far I’d go, no matter how hurtful my words would be, my mother is right behind me, and I know that I am safe. I have my mother.

She doesn’t understand me. She doesn’t know me or what I am capable of. She tells me what to do, she tells me that I’m wrong. But I know myself better. I know better. I will be better. This is who I am. She is my mother, but I am not like her. I am my own self.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about my mother’s thoughts; other times I see her in my mirror. Her words are coming out of my mouth, her arms embracing me when I’m alone. Every day I’m retracing her steps, every night I’m dreaming her dreams; I can’t help but realize that I am part of my mother.

My mother. She is my guardian, my savior, my hero. She is my judge, my teacher. She is gone. Yet wherever I go, no matter how lonely I feel, I can sense her presence in my whole being, as if I am part of her. As if I am her. I am my mother.

This photography project could not be possible without the concept and choreography of Cezara Blioju & storytelling/acting of Maria-Theodora. I am grateful to be able to transform this into a visual journey.

More info: dinmers.ro

I remember the day

It’s all coming back

The day I was born…

… and I had your hand holding me

The day you embraced me with your love…

…supported me and helped me grow

The day we disagreed…

…we fought…

… I rebelled…

… I did not want to talk to you…

…and we parted because I was my own self….

I made my own journey…

…struggling…

…looking…

…evolving….

…suffering because you did not understand me…

…smiling because I felt so alive

And yet something was missing

Then I realised…

…that you were always guiding me…

…reaching me in my thoughts…

…embracing me, supporting me

You were my mother, my guardian, my saviour, my hero. You were my judge, my teacher…

… and now you’re gone

Yet wherever I go, no matter how lonely I feel, I can sense your presence in my whole being

….as if I am part of you

As if I am you

Oh, I am my Mother

And how I grew up and grew apart, she also did, and you’ll do too. We’ll be devoured by her pains cause I am my mother, and so are you

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