Masai Mara, Kenya. April 2002
I had lived in the middle of one of the widest savannah of Africa for 6 years. A sea of grass wherever your eyes can see. Spectacular wildlife sheltered by endless sky. For me it was a great place to get lost in order to find myself, and so I did.
Finding your direction in such a place may be a tricky thing. You mark yourself rocks and trees that may help and learn the language of the bush- names that the local drivers and guides have used for years. Very close to leaving the reserve I had noticed that I base all my directions on trees that reminded me of people. As if I was driving in a book telling the story of my life there. One morning, going with a friend to one of the areas of the reserve that I knew less, we drove into a thick fog and that got worst very fast. We had 2 compasses; every one of those had another idea as for where north might be. So I drove until I found a tree that I knew well, and that pointed me to the right way back to camp.
Just before leaving the reserve at 2002, I set to photograph all those trees and wrote the stories of the people they reminded me of. I had a feeling then, that those people are treasured in their branches and will live there forever.
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