Even before arriving in India, I had a soft spot for colors—for light, transparent fabrics, for the jewelry that fills every gesture. The bindi on the forehead, the henna drawn with incredible precision across hands and feet.

Then I arrive there, and everything is more intense.

It’s an explosion of colors and sounds. I can’t stop looking. The women draw me in, like magnets. There’s something in their colors that hits me, that moves something inside me.

Almost without thinking, I pick up my camera. They notice me, and often they pose with a disarming naturalness. Sometimes with a hint of shyness, other times just there, present, without distance. They look at me, sometimes they smile, sometimes they simply remain.

It’s a silent encounter, lasting only the time of a shot.