The Last Summer

Under the burning sun of a Puglian summer, an ancient and sacred ritual of Southern Italy unfolds: the making of tomato sauce. It is a gesture that speaks of life, memory, and resilience. But this time, something is different. It is the last time that Stella, with her fragile yet determined hands, takes part in this ritual.

Stella was not only a woman within her family, but a beloved figure for an entire community. She was the primary school teacher of the village, known as “our Stella,” a beacon of kindness and wisdom that every child loved. Her presence illuminated the lives of those who met her, just as her name promised. Now, her strength has been tested by cancer, but here among the scent of tomatoes and the warmth of the pots Stella reclaims a fragment of everyday life.
Beside her, her mother and her sister. Every gesture becomes an intimate choreography, an act of love intertwined with fatigue and the heat of summer. Their work, so familiar, becomes extraordinary in the awareness that this will be the last time.
With my compact analog camera, I wanted to stop time. I could not let that moment slip away so fragile, yet so full of life. Each photograph captures the movement of hands, the steam rising like a collective breath, the laughter blending with hidden tears. Every image becomes a fragment of eternity, a memory I refuse to lose.

The red of the tomatoes bright and vivid seems to challenge the melancholy that lingers on the terrace.
It is the color of passion, sacrifice, and love. It is Stella’s color, her vitality that, despite everything, expresses itself in every small gesture: the passing of a tomato, the stirring of the sauce, the smile that lights up her face.
The making of tomato sauce has always been a communal act, a bond between generations, a way of preserving summer for the colder months. But this year, it is more than that.
It is a silent farewell, a way of holding onto traditions that embody identity and belonging. It is Stella’s way of leaving her mark an indelible imprint in the love that flows through that work.
As I photographed, I felt both the weight and the beauty of that moment. I knew that the future would bring absence, but on that terrace there was a fullness that filled the air.
There was life the real kind made of simplicity and depth. Each photograph is a love letter, a memory I wanted to entrust to eternity.
Now, every time I look at these images, I feel the warmth of the sun above us, the scent of the sauce, Stella’s laughter and her quiet worries. And despite the pain, I find peace.
Because that day was a gift, a moment of togetherness that will never fade.

This project comes from the depths of the heart a tribute to Stella, to her strength, her gentleness, her ability to love and to teach. It is a hymn to life and memory, a way of telling her that even as time passes, her love will remain like the taste of the sauce she prepared with her own hands, for the last time.
A love that lives on in memories, in the hearts of her family, and in the smiles of the children who will carry with them, for the rest of their lives, the lessons of their “teacher Stella.”

That day was also something more: it was the last day I could see and embrace Stella alive. The last moment I heard her voice, her scent, her presence so vivid, so real. I knew it was a farewell, yet I did not allow that awareness to dim the light of that moment. It is a painful memory, yes but also one filled with love.

Apulia, Acquaviva delle Fonti, (BA) August, 2023