Hidden Identities

"Hidden Identities" (series of pictures made between Romania and bosnia and Herzegovina)started thinking over one aspect of the many consequences of being poor. 

Struggling to survive, the only thing that matters is how to get the basics needs to stay alive..

It is a common believe that In those circumstances an  human being  it is  going to suffer the deprivation of the chance to develop his own identity as an individual. 

I wanted to prove that this was certainly not a fixed data In fact, there is  an evident strong potential in each of the people I portrayed.

What I wanted to portray is the potential to develop their own identities, which  goes with the potential to win the fight against the adverse condition in which they are living.

All those pictures are candid shots made without any preparation,some technical imperfections in some of the frames are the proof of their truthfulness.

fairytales to make you dream or to tell you a lie..

Once a Sherif's poor daughter was born blind (no doubt, as a result of her father's many sins) and sat in her garden day after day, lonely and sad, pondering the unfairness of Kismet that afflicted her, an innocent. One day, though, the sound of a passing minstrel's song floated over the garden wall, and enchanted her utterly. She listened with awe; before the singer had ceased his song, she had sent a message to her father, begging her to let the young man come and sing in her garden. After all, she was blind, and could not see his face! And her indulgent father agreed.
The singer was a young man, so handsome that all the slaves cooed at the sight of him. He was admitted into the Sherif's garden, sat down willingly and began to sing of the mercy of Allah. The blind girl's face was transfigured with joy.
But--when the minstrel described the power of Allah, the girl's eyes were miraculously opened--and the first thing she saw was the face of the young man! Now what was to be done? She had seen this stranger's face openly; by Qu'ranic law, she was more or less obliged to marry him! All were in a dither. But--Allah be praised!--love found a way: for the instant the lovely girl set eyes on the young singer, she fell in love, and as for the musician, he instantly confessed that he was no less than the eldest son of the Glawi of Telifet. 
"As for these things, they are quite true, for I learned only last week that one of the descendants of their happy marriage has come to live in our town!"


(From The Voice of Atlas, by Philip Thornton)