Purga

At the 3rd oldest active refugee camp in the world, Western Sahara’ women have been confined to the open air for more than 44 years. During the night, they crossed into the desert to flee with their children from white phosphorus and napalm bombs, stepping on bodies and huddling in vans until reaching safe land, building from scratch one of the most organized refugee camps in the world, according to some international humanitarian organizations. After the ceasefire with Morocco, men returned and these same women had to reinvent themselves in order to exist, without giving up their rights. The last African colony remains lost within the international political discussion, but women in Sahara give proof to the world that they know exactly what they wish.

“Remember that the world is made of stories” –  someone said to me. We stumble, every day, in a loving speech with  the greatest points of loneliness, where we lose  our speech and the difficulty is not remembering  but forgetting. Here, I live to forget. Unrolling the silence  of those who feel the other lose their speech.  Today, it is in me that this speech is missing. I scream not to be alone, expressing a  composite of identity, silence and passion,  when looking at the relationship of the self  with the other and the relationship of the self to the self.  Of how it transforms us, of how we almost don't find ourselves and how we redefine. Each image is a fragment of this transformation and its whole is the confused piece where it is inserted. This is just another story.