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.
J’ai peur.
Je suis retournée à Casablanca et cela fait quelques semaines que je n’ose plus sortir de chez moi, j’ai le souffle court, les mains qui tremblent et la respiration saccadée, je suis prisonnière de ma phobie sociale et mon léger autisme qui a pris le contrôle de mon corps et de mon esprit.
Une peur stérile, paralysante et dégoutante qui m’obliger à vivre exclusivement dans mon monde intérieur, dans un lieu abstrait loin du temps et hors du monde.
Je n’ai aucun souvenir de mon enfance ; ces autres me décrivaient comme une enfant très sociable et pleine d’humour, curieuse de la vie et des autres. Et puis un jour, tout s’arrête.
Au Maroc, j’ai perdu l’enfant que j’étais.
Pour surmonter cette peur, j’ai trouvé une solution en utilisant un appareil photo comme passerelle entre ces deux mondes : mon monde intérieur et celui de l’extérieur.
C’est un appareil photo qui m’a aidé à survivre.
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.
Il m’a fallu des années pour comprendre qu’il était temps de raconter ma propre histoire.
Désormais, je me promène avec mon appareil en bandoulière, toujours à l’affût de l’instant magique qui va susciter en moi une émotion intense, qu’elle soit de l’ordre de l’émerveillement, de la peur, de l’amusement ou de la curiosité. Chaque photo que je prends est une tentative de capturer ces émotions éphémères.
Ces images ne sont pas là pour flatter mon ego, mais pour exprimer ma vision unique du monde. Elles mettent en lumière mon environnement et les personnes qui le peuplent, révélant ainsi ma manière d’être et de voir. À travers la photographie, je cherche à partager une part de moi-même tout en rendant hommage à la complexité du monde qui m’entoure. Chaque cliché est une fenêtre ouverte sur mon âme, une invitation à découvrir mon univers intérieur à travers les scènes de la vie quotidienne que je capture. En fin de compte, la photographie est devenue pour moi un moyen d’expression puissant, me permettant de transcender mes peurs et de créer des liens avec le monde extérieur.
Ce projet, je le dois à l’enfant que j’étais, à l’enfant que je retrouve.
