Folegandros is certainly not on the tourist map. In winter, there are just about 350 inhabitants. As is often the case in these sorts of places, tourists are seen as invaders and therefore being able to talk to the locals is no easy matter. “By getting to know the inhabitants, we were able to build a special relationship with the island. Just as the light sums up the essence of this place, the people and their stories make it special. People and their stories have become tremendously important for us - their authenticity still moves me.” Some Folegandrians, as they are known, almost half of them, were portrayed with these intimate, simple pages in mind, of which the photographs – taken by Theo Vranas and edited by the two designers – are the true protagonists. Rigorously black and white, they speak for themselves. They are “direct and affectionate [images], obviously taken by someone who knows these people well and admires them,” writes Pilar Viladas. Stills that capture the weather-beaten faces lined by the wind and the sun, ancient faces framed by scarves knotted under chins, men wearing fishermen’s berets or riding their donkeys, wind-blown hair, hands folded over walking sticks with fish-shaped handles or busy with balls of wool and knitting needles, broad smiles and faraway looks, or just performing spontaneous, everyday gestures, like kneading. People who live and work there, snapped in their simple sitting rooms, in their small kitchens where everything is spotless and functional. They are portraits of true human essence. Each face, each person has a name, stamped at the end of the book as if to seal the memory. “As the years have passed,” the authors write, “we’ve become friends with the locals and learned their stories, what makes them happy and, sometimes, what makes them sad.” Like the epic tales of Katerina Papadopoulos, immortalised on the cover and in some of the middle pages, who “(still) gets emotional when she sees the full moon and […] even in this digital age, rings us to tell us about the moon,” Ciarmoli and Queda write affectionately. She also talks about her father, the well-respected Captain Yannis, who built her house – a building which, like many of those on the island, has no foundations and simply rests on the contours of the land: “the furniture has to have legs of different heights because of the uneven floor,” say the designers.