We will talk again to each others, we will talk about what we have lived. Even what was the most insignificant. It will be our way to escape, to resist to disappearance.
We won’t forget our confinement. The oozing of the skin which would like to mutate. To become something else. To let oneself slide in every wave. A place, an island where every wave reminds a story of departure which doesn’t finish anymore. A blurred story of reunion and discouragement.
We are at the border. It makes us grow to life without going back and with courage. The few steps we do in the night are stars of commiseration. We look at them to see how far they could shine.
We are on the edge of ourselves. Nobody will try to find us. Close and barely breathable place. Good enough to sing with the heart. Slight and free heart. The border is still far away. And, yet, it obsesses us. It defies and fascinates us with its endless horizon.
Laurent Guyonvarch has travelled during several weeks in Cuba. He portrayed some Cuban people torn between freedom desire and fear to break up with the revolution model. Many Cubans told him, in their own way, a life story. These narratives are put in image to relate a contradictory and fascinated relation with the border. A passage, a watch integrated in personal story of each Cuban.
(written by Laurent Guyonvarch, translated by Carole Wahnoun)