Hundreds of faces, thousands of words, and an infinite disconnection. They talk, I hear, what does “understanding” mean again?
They are like characters from a newstory, documentary, or a mere statistic. Sometimes they are just an image in a postcard, or a tourist attraction that is the focus of a photography.
This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. It’s full of indigenous…”
The American tourist started writing on the back of a postcard from Monte Albán, an archeological site. She stopped when she felt my gaze.
Who am I to judge her? A self-proclaimed writer trapped in a hunt for stories, enticed by suffering and poverty.
They walk in groups scared by the insecurity that characterizes such underdeveloped place. Camera hanging from the neck ready to capture that scene that characterizes such underdeveloped place. The kid selling candies on the street (so cute), the woman selling traditional woven blouses in the market (so beautiful).
Everything is different; everything is worth a picture.
Where do I belong? In front or behind the camera?
How to transgress, how to live outside of the ethnographer’s conditions?