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Hélène Veilleux

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I am a tourist, forehead pressed against the bus window, eyes wide open to capture every inch of the city.
Clinging to my camera, accumulating postcards’s images with the secret hope of finally confront the reality of this city nestled beyond the 38th parallel north with the sum of the images, rumors and fantasies laying inside me.
But I’m a tourist, and the bus already restarts…

Hélène Veilleux

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