During a week at Găbud Monastery in Transylvania, I documented the daily life of a monastic community preparing for its annual religious celebration. Beyond prayers and rituals, I encountered a world shaped by ordinary gestures, hard work, and human connections, where the boundaries between the sacred and the everyday seemed to disappear.
As someone who does not consider himself religious, the experience unexpectedly brought back memories of my grandmother, who raised me with faith and traditions I thought I had left behind.
What began as an observation of monastic life gradually became a personal exploration of memory, belief, and the things that remain within us long after we think we have forgotten them.
