Since his return from Barcelona in 2010, Claudio Larrea has been walking the city he had left in 2001. And he photographs it. He neither adds nor removes anything, nor does he alter the scenes before capturing them. His photographs are direct shots, almost a record of reality, with the only filter being his gaze, that is, what he chooses to photograph among everything in front of his eyes. But is Buenos Aires the city depicted in his images? Furthermore, do those images portray a city? Perhaps we can approach the answer with a famous quote from Anaïs Nin: "We do not see things as they are, we see them as we are."

Photography allows, like no other visual art, to walk along the sharp edge that separates fiction from pure documentation. And particularly in this series, Larrea balances on that edge with astonishing ease, traversing that fine line with evident pleasure and fluency to create (or reveal?) "Waires," a new territory that is neither the Buenos Aires of the post-2001 cataclysm nor the Berlin of the Weimar Republic, the defeated Germany of the First World War, marked by political and social instability as well as a dazzling artistic and cultural activity that led to Hitler's rise to power.

For his narrative and poetic foundation of "Waires," the artist does not rely on historical or objective data of Buenos Aires, but exclusively on what his expressive sensitivity perceives or intuits: the remnants of a dark city that was once, in another time - according to other accounts, other fictions - luminous; a city that was modern and now appears melancholically frozen or out of time; a city that aspired to rise towards the sky in the 1930s and now seems submerged in an endless abyss. With the patient work of a visual archaeologist, Larrea peels back layer upon layer and captures with his camera the veiled remains that remain in this city from that time. Shadowy palaces, majestic domes, plays of light and geometry, dreams of stone and glass, deceptive architecture of finance, power, and institutions, the order of sumptuous homes and modest ones, monuments to forgotten heroes under dense gray clouds, mannequins that seem about to awaken... In these scenographic landscapes, the inhabitants of Weimar move, closer to drowsiness than wakefulness. With fragments of other dreams, other eras, Larrea dreams the long night of "Waires" and shows it to us, always in pause, orphaned of a future and laden with silence.