













The sound passed through me. It wasn’t just music — it was the vibration on my skin, the tension in my muscles, the breath held between bars. The cello spoke for me, in a language that the body understands better than words. Then, the pain. The invisible barrier that separates me from the gesture, the string, the sound. These images emerge from the overlapping of scores and X-rays: traces of who I was, vestiges of a body that played — and was played — by music. “Requiem for Silence” is an attempt to give voice to silence. It is a process of mourning. A journey towards silence. And what remains — more than absence — is a vibrating void. Like the echo of a last chord that is never heard. It is skin, bone and score united in a final movement. It is not a definitive goodbye, but a persistent suggestion, where the body and art were met for the last time.