From the moment I arrived to the moment I tied that knot in my throat walking through the departures gate, I felt like home. It was as if I no longer belonged to that place I was going back to, as if my purpose and destiny were staying here, as if I was betraying myself leaving all that behind. The rain in the deep green forest, the constant smell of trees and plants, that fresh breeze at the end of a hot day when the sky is endless and pink, the sound of pigeons early in the morning when the air is still cold and I’m just here, laying in the hammock my grandmother knitted. I'm breathing, living… Present, always, that inexplicable deep feeling of being exactly where you're supposed to be. Maybe all I see is a reflection.
A vision of Venezuela.
Words and photography. Gabriela Mailet