I have long been drawn to the paradox of discovering traces of what is absent within what is materially present. Photography, for me, is an attempt to reveal the resonance of untold stories that linger beyond the frame, and to evoke the “presence of absence” through the interplay of light and shadow.

In Untold Signs, I turned to Madrid’s Atocha Station—an anonymous, transient space—as a stage. I followed shafts of light falling through its skylights like theatrical spotlights. Using highlight-weighted metering, I allowed only those illuminated fragments to emerge: a passing stranger’s shoes, an arm, a strand of hair, the faint inclination of a posture. The rest receded into darkness.

These moments unfold like scenes from a Strangers’ Theater, where nameless actors step briefly into the light, perform unknowingly, and vanish. What remains concealed in shadow invites the viewer’s imagination—summoning absent figures and untold stories into presence.

Thus, the fragments revealed by light become Untold Signs: silent markers of the countless hidden narratives embedded in the fabric of everyday urban life.