I see us expelled from the earth that has become hell.
I measure the time that accelerates ans cast us out among the refuse.
I see the survivors petrified as they witness the diaster.
I paint distraught mothers who no longer know how to protect their children .
I paint our shipwreck, a burial offered to those who disappear on the road and in the sea.
Drifting boats loaded with hundreds of blacks hoping to come to Europe.
Whether they are political, economic, climatic, we thus have to welcome them,
without compassion but with empathy,
since they are already there, forced into the fate we have reserved for them.
They crossed the desert, wild animals attacked them
on the eastern slope of the Atlas, they walked in sandals in the snow and gravel.
Where to go?