For over two decades, I have moved through the world's most beautiful spaces not as a guest, but as a witness.

The access is real these are are places that ask something of you and reward you, if you let them, with a feeling that borders on awe. What I found instead, everywhere and without exception, was the muted weight of the devices we carry around with us daily. Not as an occasional intrusion but as the dominant reality. A woman alone on a bench, bent over her phone while the piazza moves around her. Friends facing Portofino harbor, one of them entranced in a video. A man in a suit, leaning against a wall of white light as if one of the most beautiful thoroughfares in the world were a waiting room. I am not indicting them I am one of them, and I suspect you are too. What Optical Inclusion proposes is that this is no longer a failure of attention. It is the condition itself: to be physically inside beauty and mentally absent from it, simultaneously included in the most extraordinary tableau and completely elsewhere. The screen did not follow us into paradise. We brought it there on purpose.