Mom’s letters part two. Mine — to her.
Sometimes it take all our strength to be lost — and to find the way out. Your own way. To your own home.
Having no traditions. No home. No family. No ground beneath your feet. Just camera to fix it.
To fix — in both meanings of the word.
Having lots of expectations of others. Of you yourself. Painful and rigid.
When you are looking for your place and can’t find it — then built it.
Without any pop-psychology directions.
Once upon a time there was a girl, and she has no home. I changed 8 places during six monthes, and I had no place to stay alone. I did it with my camera. It become my boat.
I will never allow anyone to tell me what I am.
I wish you hear me, whenever you are.
I wish every woman hear. Not me — herself.