An intimate history of survival. A cold desert of solitude and isolation becomes the canvas where a personal drama is projected. When the worst prison is the one that was constructed upon oneself, staying still is accepting the defeat. Going forward felt like the only option. But towards where? The distorting power of the layers that they constructed around me had been meticulously designed and crafted during more than 2000 years of lies, death and destruction. I could not fight the elements, I could not fight the guards of the layered prison, but first I had to survive.
So I started walking. To avoid walking in circles, one needs a point of reference in the distance, a sign, a little anomaly, something sticking out of the emptiness. And then walk towards it. With the determination of the one who has nothing to lose. With the strength of the one that questions everything. With the anger of the one who feels that has been living a lie. With the acceptance of the fear of not knowing what might happen next. Those little signs protruding out in the cold void…where the books that I read, the people that I met, the thoughts that challenged everything. They altogether became the friction that opened the first holes on the walls of lies... till I reached the horizon all by myself. After a long survival journey, I was finally able to escape. Through that opening, I saw a world that had been there all the time, just invisible to my eyes. More real, warmer, feminine and loving.