PHOTO OF THE DAY #1 - LOVE in OMAN
The relationship between a son and his parents is a quiet evolution — almost invisible while it happens, and unmistakable once it has. In childhood, parents are the entire world: protectors, guides, and the reassuring constants that make life feel infinite. A son learns through their words, their gestures, their silent endurance. Every rule and every embrace shapes the early map of his heart.
As years pass, the balance begins to shift. The son grows into his own person, sometimes distant, sometimes impatient. Parents, once so unshakable, start to show the weight of time. Their advice, once sacred, becomes something to challenge or even ignore. Yet behind those frictions lies love — quieter, more complex, often unspoken.
Then comes the turning point, when roles reverse. The son becomes the one who worries, who reminds, who protects. It is a subtle, bittersweet inversion: the hands that once held him now need holding. Conversations grow slower, phone calls shorter, but their meaning deeper.
And one day, they are gone. The house falls silent, the familiar voices exist only in memory. It’s then that understanding finally settles in: everything changes, and time always moves forward. What remains are fragments — laughter in an old photograph, a phrase remembered at the right moment, a recipe, a scent.
The loss is permanent, but not empty. Love transforms into memory, and memory into presence. The son, now perhaps a parent himself, sees that nothing truly disappears — it only changes form. What you can save, what endures, are the moments you once shared, gently folded into the heart, where time can no longer touch them.
I took this photo in late 2004, at sunset while driving my parents, Aldo and Evelina, through the Omani desert to a beautiful oasis about 50 km south of Hatta. It was an unforgettable trip for them — their first visit to the Middle East, years after I had started working in the region. The image captures a moment of intimacy, happiness, and their enduring love.