I was intrigued by the desperation and “resilience” of migrants who travel across the Sahara desert, Atlantic Ocean and eventually cross the Mediterranean Sea with optimism of enriching, themselves in an unknown space and unknown economy, just at the risk of everything. I “take my road and travel along the land and coast,” just like a one of those “immigrant/migrant.” Few hours into my sojourn, the irrationality of immigration officers, their bulldogs “touts” across the frontiers on the West African coasts and along the road sends me into a complete state of confusion.

Soon, I found myself in a reality mode when my travel-fund began to shrink by the minute and I was unsure of where to lay my head as night beckoned. My vision became blurry and my memory became messy; in the midst of this state of mind, I released my shutter-button to capture the vision and emotion.

“It’s a known fact,” that when people travel, there is a motivation: it could be in search of love or lust. It could be a quest of revitalization of health or wealth. It could be to encounter new people and new spaces. With people I interacted, with spaces I intercepted and my fears I conquered, but my mission was truncated for lack of motivation.