The project unfolds as a quiet exploration of a place suspended between presence and disappearance. Castiglione di Roncofreddo, where I have lived for twelve years, emerges as a landscape made of remnants, faint traces and objects resurfacing from the soil. Ruins, fragments and archaeological residues form a silent archive in which past and present coexist beneath the surface of everyday life.

The research began with a simple question: what existed here before this field? This inquiry grew out of my mother’s initial curiosity, whose act of collecting and preserving materials became the starting point for the work. From there, the investigation expanded into historical maps, land registries, archival photographs and fragmented testimonies linked to former inhabitants of the area.

Gradually, references emerged to an ancient settlement once known as Castellione, documented as early as 1136. The project follows these traces in an attempt to reconstruct its possible location and its relationship to the present-day house on via Palazzo, a site with its own layered history extending far beyond the seventeenth century.

Rather than following a linear narrative, the work develops as a process of accumulation and listening, shaped by fragmented memories, oral accounts and partial images. These elements form a fragile constellation in which names, faces and architectural hints resurface as echoes across time.

The project is guided by the idea that history cannot be fully contained or ordered. Like the Rigossa river crossing the valley, it moves, disperses and reconfigures itself. Within this flow, the act of looking becomes an act of care: a way of returning attention to a place that risks being forgotten. The work seeks not to fix a definitive story, but to restore visibility and resonance to a landscape where memory continues to persist in subtle, buried forms.