My Beach, curated by Camille Tsvetoukhine (Douarnenez, France 2016)
Pictures taken Guillaume Pellay
I am going to talk for fifth teen minutes.
I will tell you about my life or images that are important to me for some reason.
You will listen to my words and hear every person I have ever spoken to.
I have a burning desire.
Every piece of parmesano I put into my mouth. In between us, this massive cheese. We are surrounded by people just eating.
Say cheese. Váyanse. Iros
I am going to blow it.
Proud.
Proud?
Unfreedom. I could be. Unfreedom of what of who. I could be.
You can’t see what I could be.
I imagine where I could be.
Shall I start now?
Nobody wanted to touch them, just in case. Of course they were physically harmless but you never know...
You could find them by the beach where the sand started to mix with the soil, the soil, the ground... la tierra, but the soil was very dense you really needed to dig into it and brush it, -... ¿sabes lo que quiero decir con tierra?...-, and brush it with your hands to find pieces, if you wanted to find pieces. Unless you found one of those palm tress upside-down. Yeah, the ones that storms would... leave upside-down.
In between the mesh of the roots there were hundreds of them.
Is that it?