Leave your place more beautiful than you found it. Leave your land more fertile than you found it.

A fresh and young body: the most haunting, still praised, painful and pleasuring place to exist.

They'll never tell you that your icons might want to die.

“Do you really want to be perfect, or are you pressured to be replaced?”
“Do you really want to work so much, or are you self-conscious to rest?”
“Do you really want to be THAT Girl, or do you feel like there is no other way?”
“Do you really want to be optimal, or are you simply trying to update?”

Walking around with no specific feelings. It reminds me of the last time I was about to leave and broke someone’s heart. My mom says I have to stop moving out of cities just so I can avoid being honest. She’s claiming that I am the toughest warrior and the weakest coward.

Growing older meant being more careful with dreams (?)

I attempted, one more time, to give birth to a project about something that should not be seen. I read somewhere that sociological efforts to secure an understanding of the visual dimensions of spirituality might seem an unpropitious exercise, one doomed to failure.

While these girls were depicting their journey appeared in my mind these rather vivid images of God as a truck driver on a lonely highway. I pictured myself hitch-hiking on a desert road with all my camera equipment. But I would never get into the car of a lonely man. That’s one of the first things I’ve ever learned, one of those mantras.

I did not particularly adore being portrayed as an angry teenager bitter about the freedom offered by a secular society. A part of me still cringes about this moment, not only because I care about my peer’s perception of my incapacity to be spiritually structured, but also because I recognize a lot of what she says in the continuity of life’s events.