I left the United States with a photographer friend. I wanted to come face to face with landscapes, immeasurable spaces, make photos where man would be absent. A road trip, a photographic one-to-one, the discovery of a country that I only knew through films or photographs.
Then everything changed dramatically.
At the same time that I would discover the lousy motel on my first American night, I would discover man, the megalomaniac artist, frustrated, the narcissistic deviant. Everything started with small details of nothing at all, in an insidious manner.
And then humiliation… I thought I would die in the Valley of Death. Self Control and escape running in loops inside my head. I was the heroine of a bad psychological drama!
I was systematically on the opposite axis inside of the fear of stirring trouble, the fear that I would be accused of stealing images from it! In any case, I knew nothing about the United States. I could only take some snapshots.
The morning when I woke up in the middle of a backwoods dump in California, I decided to leave. By foot, alone on the road… A wind of happiness filled me, America was mine!! These photographs are my my wandering between Las Vegas and San Francisco. Floating, not yet understanding what was going on at that precise moment of my life.
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