Intimacy is something extraordinary—it reveals the unique beauty of every human life. True closeness, the kind that comes from deep connection, is a quiet act of resistance. It shelters us from time’s relentless march, from life’s uncertainties, and from the pressures of modern society—its sameness, its shallowness, its injustices, and its violence.

I’ve been fortunate to step into people’s homes and lives. Each time I entered, I was greeted with questions: Have you eaten? How is your family? These weren’t just polite words—they were gestures of genuine care.

Perhaps only those who have known deep solitude can truly be present with others. Isn’t photography, after all, a way of facing our own loneliness—and transcending it through shared moments that become memories, even art?

What fascinates me most is capturing everyday life by living within it, honoring the depth and variety of human emotion. Every encounter begins with wonder, and over time, that wonder deepens into admiration for life in its purest, most honest form.

I’ve seen newborns take their first breath, children grow into parents, and loved ones pass away. These moments remind me how fragile we are—yet in the eyes, faces, and gentle touches of the people I’ve photographed, I’ve also found a strength and tenderness that give meaning to our existence.

This book is a love letter to those I’ve met. Its title comes from a line I wrote one quiet Sunday afternoon in Naples’ Rione Sanità—a rare hour of stillness after lunch:

“Silence is a rare gift in these streets, but in its quiet revelation, you find the raw, boundless soul of a forgotten humanity.”

That phrase became both a statement of purpose and a reflection of my artistic vision.

Too often, stories about the South—especially Naples—rely on noise, stereotypes, and spectacle. But beneath the clamor, the real lives of these communities vanish—lives rich with history and meaning.

My work moves in the opposite direction. Silence is a Gift speaks of love and solitude, life and death, sorrow and joy—but above all, intimacy. Through these images, I try to reclaim the essence of life in the relationships, neighborhoods, and families I’ve known.

I focus on intimacy because, as Simone Weil wrote, ordinary people are closer to truth, beauty, and joy than those who pity them—even if they don’t always know how to reach it.

The book collects photos taken between 2015 and 2021 in Naples’ Rione Sanità, Cosenza’s Santa Lucia, and Torre del Greco.

The idea to merge three of my projects into one book came from Cécile Poimbœuf-Koizumi, co-founder of Chose Commune. She suggested we create something new, designed specifically for this format. The idea excited me—I’ve always seen these works as chapters of a single story.

—Ciro Battiloro

As we sorted through the archive, the editor immediately recognized the connection between my projects. The common thread is my closeness to the people and their private worlds.

Even the book’s design reflects this. We chose a cover paper that feels like something held close—soft, textured, intimate.The book has a lived-in feel—rough around the edges yet warm, with a tone that somehow brings to mind the comfort of home. When you open it, you’re greeted by an old map of Naples, giving the impression that you’re flipping through something truly special. The images flow naturally across the pages, their rhythm mirroring the body language of the people in them.

At the end, there’s a text by Erri De Luca. I met Erri while hiking in Agerola along the “Cammino degli Dei” (Path of the Gods). We got to talking about photography and the book I was finishing. After seeing the photographs and the PDF, De Luca wrote his contribution just a few days later.

The “vascio” is a typical home in Naples’ historic neighborhoods, like the Sanità district. These small, single-room spaces are often dark and located on the ground floor, originally built as storage rooms.

© Ciro Battiloro