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I was intrigued by the desperation and “resilience” of migrants who travel across the Sahara desert, and the Atlantic Ocean. And eventually, some of them would cross the Mediterranean Sea with the optimism of enriching, themselves in an unknown space and unknown economy, just at the risk of everything.


To understand how difficult the journey is, I “take my road and travel along with the land and coast,” through the West African road, like one of those undocumented “immigrants/migrants.” A few hours into my sojourn, the ludicrousness of immigration officers and their bulldogs “touts” across the frontiers on the West African coasts and along the road sent me into a complete state of confusion.

Soon, I found myself in a real mode when my travel fund began to dry up and I was unsure of where to lay my head as the night beckoned. My vision became blurry and my memory became messy; amid this state of mind, I released my shutter button to capture the vision, illusion 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 for the revitalization of health or wealth. It could be to encounter new people and new spaces. With people, I interacted with, with spaces I intercepted and my fears I conquered, but my mission was truncated for lack of motivation.

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