Suddenly the blurry thing walks into your room without asking permission and you can only dance to it feeling every inch of your body being burned and touched gently at the same time. And you look right into it as scary as it is and wonder for how long it’s going to be there. You think you can scape when you sleep but not really as it whispers there as well. Dry mouth and shaky hands stand watching and she learns to accept it. Learns to dance. Learns to speak only with the soul. Learns slowly to exist.
Today many friends mourn the death of a well known journalist. Someone I never met. It is said he committed suicide. That he was struggling with depression for a while. I feel we all fail every time this happens, because we are not educated to deal with the concept of depression in a mature way. We should stop fighting it with “you just have an attitude problem”. The note above is in my diary, as many others from a while ago. Having people that understand what it’s like to put effort in just getting up from bed is crucial. We failed again by not understanding each other. By not understanding him.
Esta semana World Press Photo presenta el trabajo de los 6x6! Enjoy!
#Repost@worldpressphoto with @get_repost
Left: a shirt hangs in one of the coca laboratories in Zabaleta. Right: Ariel Ramos (50) poses for a portrait in his house in Zabaleta, Colombia. He has been planting coca leaves since 1998. "I lived in poverty, and coca was money. If planting bananas or rice was as profitable, I would do that instead", he says.
Hi there, I’m Fabiola Ferrero (@fabiolaferrero), a Venezuelan journalist and photographer currently based between Venezuela and Colombia. I’ll be sharing two of my projects, ‘Blurred in Despair’ and ‘MotherEarthConflict’, with you.
From ‘MotherEarthConflict’: ‘MotherEarthConflict’ is a documentary project made with Fujifilm Instax cameras that aims to pay close attention to the peace process in the rural areas of Colombia after decades of armed conflict. It’s a reflection of the ever-lasting issues of the land and inequity by exploring the daily life of families that depend solely on coca incomes, their relation to nature and their state of mind.
With the camera in my hands, and paper in theirs, the project creates a mixed narrative between pictures made by me and drawings made by them. Forgotten by the state, the coca farmers float in limbo between a fear of the past and hopes for the future–wishing that a happier and peaceful chapter could soon start for their communities.
The six selected South American talents of the second edition of the 6x6 Global Talent Program are taking over our feed for the next two weeks! The program aims to connect visual storytellers around the world, particularly those that might not be well known outside of their own region, to a global audience. Find out more by following the link in our bio.
Mayally talks to her daughter through the curtains that work as a door. She lives with her sister and her nephews, and they all depend on the box of food called CLAP to supplement what she’s able to afford with only 4$ a month. When I visited her, kids were running around the house as she was worried about her house not being clean for a visitor. It always surprises me when people who are in so much need here always try to make the other feel at home. Her and her family desperately need the State’s help to survive. And she will vote for that reason. Today, on @wsj :
“Food is an enormously powerful weapon in a country where babies die of malnutrition, store shelves are often bare and three-quarters of the population has lost an average of 19 pounds”
Story by Ryan Dube, Kejal Vyas and Anatoly Kurmanaev.
Ah, magical Caracas 💛 you hurt and you captivate. You leave scars and lovely memories. You bring pain and joy. You look like the old childhood city yet you seem gone. You make me fall in love with your light just to remind me later how complicated you are. You hide so many secrets, so many truths about us, about being human, about crying silently and laugh out loud. Yes, magical yet blurred Caracas. #Sunday#Caracas#Venezuela#igersvenezuela#tree#documentary#magic
“Only then, when another man’s father reached out to comfort me, and placed a poor farmer’s rough and calloused hand on my shoulder, only then did I see and feel the torments of what I’ve done, and what I’ve become-the pain and the fear and the waste, the stupid, unforgivable waste of it all. My heart broke on its shame and sorrow. I suddenly knew how much crying there was in me, and how little love. I knew, at last, how lonely I was.
But I couldn’t respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things well. So I lay completely still, and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nation. The soul has no color or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moment of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.
One of the reasons why we crave love and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness and shame and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you”. -Fragment of Shantaram. 💛