i met agus in argentina during an art residence that she was director of, we remained in contact afterwards and a couple years later she invited me to work in this project. when she first approached me the body of work had a slightly different form, it was more oriented towards archival images with some documentation of the these places that remained from the peronist era. we worked in the concept in a way that required her to go back and create some aditional images specific for the book. i came up with the idea of using the archival images, some old postcards that she recovered from the archives and the new aditional photographs to create a three-way parallel narrative in which the past, the present and a fictional time-less voice created an all around abstract perspective of a space with so much history that it’s difficult to understand in the present. for this purpose, i created a base photographic narrative with agustina’s original photographs, this narrative feels as if walking through these spaces thinking about the past of the place while seeing these persons that seem to have a special fondness for it. on top of this narrative i included archival cut-out images, product of family photographs made as mementos in some of the same places. behind the archival images i created a text narrative made from fragments of different postcards that people sent to their families. in this made up narrative a voice seems to be calling from an afterlife-like abstract space, telling us that everything is fine, that everyone is fine out there and waiting for you. this voice feels nostalgic and unsettling, like the remains of a past that’s difficult to understand and that doesn’t want to let you go. as a mexican it’s difficult for me to understand the political past of argentina, but i imagined a generational pull that has such strong roots that’s difficult to escape it, for better or for worse. i constructed this narrative thinking of this past that’s calling you and from which escaping seems just like a distant possibility.