Le goût des nèfles
I am afraid.
I returned to Casablanca, and for the past few weeks, I haven’t dared to leave my house. I have shortness of breath, trembling hands, and labored breathing. I am a prisoner of my social phobia and mild autism, which have taken control of my body and mind. A sterile, paralyzing, and disgusting fear that forces me to live exclusively in my inner world, in an abstract place far from time and out of the world.
I have no memories of my childhood; others described me as a very sociable and humorous child, curious about life and others. And then one day, it all stopped.
In Morocco, I lost the child I once was.
To overcome this fear, I found a solution by using a camera as a bridge between these two worlds: my inner world and the outside world.
It was a camera that helped me survive.
I decided to go out and face the world, tell stories, and meet the other who terrified me. I focused on creating photographic projects. It had become an obsession, and it didn’t help my health. In Morocco, particularly in Casablanca, there is a certain chaos, a latent suffering, a cacophony of sounds and images, saturated colors, and a gentle madness. I felt like I was walking a tightrope every time I faced the world and my greatest fears to take the right photo, the right story. My practice of photography was accompanied by great pain and emotional saturation that I prohibited myself from showing; the most important thing was to tell stories.
Then I returned to settle in France. I found myself in a completely opposite environment to what I was used to for taking photos: the colors were duller, everything was sanitized, there was no madness, no chaos, everything was in its place and orderly. I couldn’t see anything anymore; my photos were boring to me, and above all, I realized that I didn’t want to suffer to take photos. That’s when I realized my practice and approach to photography had become almost toxic and alienating.
An artist is a candle that consumes itself to bring light to others.
After years of introspection, I understood it was time to shine a light on my own story.
Now, I walk around with my camera slung over my shoulder, always on the lookout for the magical moment that will evoke an intense emotion in me, whether it be wonder, fear, amusement, or curiosity. Each photo I take is an attempt to capture these fleeting emotions.
These images are not there to flatter my ego but to express my unique vision of the world. They highlight my environment and the people who inhabit it, revealing my way of being and seeing. Through photography, I seek to share a part of myself while paying tribute to the complexity of the world around me. Each shot is an open window to my soul, an invitation to discover my inner universe through the scenes of everyday life that I capture. Ultimately, photography has become a powerful means of expression for me, allowing me to transcend my fears and create connections with the outside world.
I am slowly rediscovering the lost child within me. From that regained childhood, one of the few memories that comes back to me is of myself climbing a fruit tree in my grandmother’s garden, sitting on a branch, and eating loquats. That tree, with its branches reaching out like open arms, became a symbol of my journey—rooted in one place, yet always reaching for something beyond.
This project, I owe it to the child I was, to the child I am rediscovering.