This sequence of images has been realized to stigmatize a kind
of communication that does not leave any space to ambiguities
of interpretation. It is intentionally composed by a first face that
looks far from the others. It is the identity of Hope, that never
dies and always looks forward. The other kids come from
haggard villages or orphanages of the site, everyone of them
living in different social contexts, but also owning the same
sphere of necessities (affection, food, health and instruction).
As many other children in Kenya, their eyes impress something
like a silent help request, that is screamed loudly, at the same
time, through the strong contrast of black and white, every face
pictured in an independent psychological space, everyone of
them with his own strength of communication, everyone linked
to the same dramatic faith, the lack of certainties and
perspectives. When I walk through the streets and I meet them
in my Kenya, even if I’m absorbed into the colourful world of
Africa, everywhere I can only see their big, white, bright eyes
that scream out their needs and their dreams; these are the
shouts of my Africa, which breaks my heart every time I come
back, which breaks my heart every time I think that it’s
impossible to me to embrace them all. Those are the shouts of
Hope that resound to the spectators with the frustration of an
unbearable impotence.
When I look at them I only see their eyes...
As if I’m walking through the night...
With an heavy stone in my chest...
And a nut locked in my throat...
Only their eyes...
It’s an unbridgeable emptiness...
In which their screams resound...
Till they make me mad about deafness...