Living Periferia

  • Dates
    2009 - 2013
  • Author
  • Topics Portrait, Daily Life, Social Issues
  • Location Santiago Metropolitan, Chile

Living Periferia is a documentary Project that portrays the life of Young Inhabitants of dangerous areas in the outskirts of Santiago de Chile.

Gathering shadows

Make a light...

The same time is so long. Of the same, same thing... Of that desert without trees around you. And that has had us under siege, century after century. That the thirst boils me during the day. And the thirst at night. One desert after another. Several continuous lives , without forests, without vegetation, no grass, no herbs. So much urban steppe color! So much far desert in the city! That bites you all the silhouette, without ceasing. At every step...

Dryness was tobacco. It was dry smoke, gas, marijuana, whatever. Something that was air to feed my lungs. More at night than during the day. More shadow than light. More of society than one's own. Or pure society that does not matter. The empty dryness, twisted in smoke. Bronchial smoke. Sting of life, at pure lung.

Why not, if everything is square cement , rectangular, hard, made of aristas and blades of knife? If when I go out step on cans, forgotten cigarette butts , Immortals plastics immortalizing the Street, useless food that did not revived anything, on my feet, smelly and disposable city solidified( aconchada ) at my feet ?

Why not, if light comes to me pale and petty through the curtains? If everybody’s sky loads itself of carbon monoxide and smog clouds? If the solitude surround me all the time as a straitjacket, even in the most intimate corner of my own home?

It is clear, as everything is in twilight that I do not know who to kiss. Here does not matter who. If you, or you. If he or she ,if he and she. The definitive is kissing. My Kiss, exclusively mine. Which accompanies me everywhere, hiccuping my own blood. Outputting my own body. Let me kiss you and pour on you my eroticism, as years of hungry water. But passionately: it is my only kiss. With it I socialize my single life. It has strength. It has rage. It has sense of domination. Feel it. Experience it. Enjoy it. I don't have another: love it...

But consider my eyes: burning with glitters. Even in embers. Or lava. I do not know well, but the look burns me from the inside, before leaving. I look at as a projectile in the shadows. Look at me well, and you'll know about me. Beware of my eyes...

I know that you don’t see me well. I know you can barely glimpse my foreshortenings. My light strokes fading in shadows. I think that you can barely take a guess on me. And you would believe that I am an appearance of some of your oldest nightmares. But I can’t even be a ghost. I know that I do not not scare you : delete me whenever you want. But beware : not as much as all that. It is what you would like, if you were rich, sharp and bright. But I exist. I am. And I am shadow with a silhouette, and therefore, almost like you. Whether you like it or not. Even more: although you do not believe it: I am young. I know play. I know dream, looking out the window, at the bottom of the darkness, just around the corner. Watch out!... Sometimes, the shadows have more power - over time – than the light. Take care of yourself !...

I carry my life as a tattoo. Or, perhaps, as a backpack. I have it on my back, so I can't (don't want to) read it. And I can, therefore, not understand it. If you can decipher it, let me know. I will try to learn from your lips. If you know how to read other’s lives... Sure, I know: only your own life. Only yours. And damn the rest. For this reason, I installed it on my back: I don't want to read it and understand it. I invite those who are interested to have fun with my journey: you will learn from me. But know that I am going forward, without looking back. I am walking blind, but determined till the end. And I don't care what they say: I know what I am stepping on .

And I know, for example, that flowers accompany me. They are on the table, in front of my eyes, here or there. For where I go, in full shade, it blooms the impossible.That’s how I am . That’s how marginals are, we draw life from nothing, as magicians... Rabbit to rabbit.

In any case, pay attention well: we are many. More than Governments can imagine. More than 'Special Forces' would want to live in peace. Many more . In fact, we are more than 'them'. So, hold on to the end (of yourself).

And we are not only a lot more... than them. We not only cram the shadows of the city till burst them. We not only spread ourselves by passages of the population and the route of the hooligans ( barras bravas ) and corners of the masked and on the glassy walls of the bourgeoisie... We are also more than the shadow. Because, in the chiaroscuro, we are shadow, but also light...

Photographers, sometimes become fond of the shadows. And they are pleased to see us sunk in the bottom of them. With the smog to the neck... of the lungs. With a joint choking the soul and the future... But if you want to make a true complaint about us, a real testimony against the hell... do not forget our light! Because, ‘one of this days’, we will throw up light. By mouth, by the brain, eyes, by fists, through every pore of our existence. We will be a parade of Thunder and lightning marching around the city...

Because, at the bottom of the shade is forge, more steely, the light of truth...

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