Olly olly oxen free!

It is the best gift I have ever received. I’ll bring it with me everywhere, along with my memories of Michelangelo.
I met him when my town was still my home, when my family was still together, when we still had a home. When I used to go to school every day, when I spent every afternoon with my friends. It was a wonderful time: after lunch I used to go to the park and we often played hide-and-seek. Samir always hid among the olive trees, but no one could find him because he was too nimble: he could move among the branches without making any sound. He was the quickest, always ready to run and save us all screaming out loud “Olly olly oxen free!”.

I met Michelangelo because he came to my town to photograph my neighbours. His portraits were breathtaking.
I remember that one afternoon he walked by the park and he stopped to talk to us for a while. He was nice and his weird accent made us laugh: he was not from around there, he said he came from somewhere far, far away. In our eyes he looked strange because his clothes were different from ours and he was always carrying a backpack and a camera.
That day, he took a picture of me, capturing and making eternal that happy and peaceful moment of my life.
I was on a see-saw, swinging and smiling. The sun was shining high in the sky, the grass was green, the apple trees were blossoming. I had the feeling that I was flying. It was only a second’s fiftieth.

“Zahira! Come home! Hurry up!” My mother suddenly called me looking out from the window.
Her voice and her tone startled me. I couldn’t see her face but I somehow clearly imagined her worried expression. I run, arrived at home, climbed the stairs as fast as I could, and then suddenly a deafening noise and a violent tremor shook the building. I fell down.
From that moment everything changed.

The morning after the street was calm and quiet, there was a deathly silence, but inside people were profoundly agitated.
While my mother was packing and my father was arguing with my uncles, I ran outside, trying to find my way in the middle of flakes of plaster and ruins. I didn’t recognize the landscape, everything had changed appearance and shape.
I couldn’t see the see-saw, the garden, the trees anymore. Everything looked similar, of the same yellowish color of the bricks which our homes are built with. All those small modules that used to be the basis of our buildings didn’t support them anymore: they were shattered, split, tear, pulverized, and their dust was covering everything I could see like a shroud.

My legs were trembling and I burst into tears, when Michelangelo suddenly appeared like a vision.
He came close to me, calm and comforting, dried my face and hugged me. The stranger came to relieve me. He wanted to distract me and asked me to look inside the viewfinder of one of his cameras.
This is a device which engraves images, selected portions of reality, frozen in time to be preserved and taken everywhere. I was fascinated.

My new friend took me home and, before leaving, he gave me that little camera as a special parting gift. He then said goodbye.
It was time for everybody to leave, it was time for everybody to go, it was time for everybody to escape.

The camera in my hands, I draw it near my cheek.
Looking in the viewfinder with my left eye, winking with the right one.
I find myself alone, in my dark room. It is a window on the world, always bright, constantly letting the sunshine in.
I set, I focus.
I see the trees, the garden, the green grass.
All around, the buildings of my town seem to have lost substance, light pierces through the holes. It looks like a structure made of light. It punctuates space and contains objects, but there isn’t any division nor distinction between interior and exterior anymore, plants are able to grow and people can sleep. There are beds and children’s puppets. A rainbow could appear too.
My see-saw is also there, it’s swinging, but nobody is around.

The day after, there were a lot of us in the mountains, far away from thunderous noises. I thought it was a temporary solution. Luckily I found new friends to play with, I run with them among the tents on the rocky soil. While I run I asked myself if things would ever change and, most importantly, who were we running away from?

I only understood that there were two groups fighting against each other. If we became allies with one of them we risked to be killed from the other one, while if we stayed neutral we might be killed by both. No solution was safe. It was just a matter of time and then we would be killed. They were destroying everything.

The camera in my hands, I draw it near my cheek.
Looking in the viewfinder with my left eye, winking with the right one.
I find myself alone, in my dark room. It is a window on the world, always bright, constantly letting the sunshine in.
I set, I focus.
Our shining tents are all aligned, uncountable, organized by unrecognizable sectors. They are our homes, without foundations, yet their aspect is reassuring. They constitute an ephemeral and evanescent city made of frozen igloos, ready to vanish without leaving trace of their existence.
I’m wandering, but I don’t know where I am.

We decided to leave again. The full moon illuminated our path.
We walked for days, all day long. We didn’t know which was our destination, but we clearly knew which was our purpose: to survive.
We could barely remember our home, we lost our friends and we were often in need of food and water.
I don’t know if you can understand me, I don’t know if anything similar has ever happened to you. In these situations you realize how difficult is to find a reason to go on.
I was exhausted, I was tired about wandering in the middle of nothing and nowhere, ignoring where we were going and if we would ever stop. Every night I would fall asleep hoping to wake up in my bedroom.

The camera in my hands, I draw it near my cheek.
Looking in the viewfinder with my left eye, winking with the right one.
I find myself alone, in my dark room. It is a window on the world, always bright, constantly letting the sunshine in.
I set, I focus.
It is a limitless and always identical surface, where we are gliding through with difficulty. The blue and arid sky wraps us like an immense cover.
It is like being in a room without walls and ceiling, a long continuum, where moving means choosing a path over another. A labyrinth of infinite possibilities.

Undertaking a path without deviating is a great trial. It isn’t easy to be fumbling around in the dark, believing that is the right track without concrete proof. It is an act of faith.
Along the journey anything can happen, the unexpected is the norm.
You get lost and don’t find food where you thought you would. You meet other people. They have also taken brave decisions, they have also gone against the current. You learn to listen to others and to your breath, as you are often left alone with yourself. You learn to travel light, taking only what is necessary. You learn to adapt.
After roaming for a long time in sterile landscapes, we were reaching the end of the journey.

The camera in my hands, I draw it near my cheek.
Looking in the viewfinder with my left eye, winking with the right one.
I find myself alone, in my dark room. It is a window on the world, always bright, constantly letting the sunshine in.
I set, I focus.
I see a giant rock, a lintel with no pillars.
That is the limit, the border, an entrance. Crossing it is like dying and being born again.
Leaving this space where you changed for something unknown is a relief and a new trauma at the same time. You must be ready. We are not ready but forced to.

I pass through it and I feel like fainting, joy and sadness overcome me.
Exhausted, my limbs succumb after crossing the border.
We will need a long rest to celebrate.
For every end there’s a new beginning.