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This series is a piece of growth as a photographer, as an artist, but most importantly, as a human.
October 27, 2018.
Tears are rolling down my face as I go to visit my parents. It’s been a long time since I’ve dared to take this step. I can’t comprehend it, and I find it incredibly difficult. A roof above your head… isn’t that something you take for granted in the Netherlands? That’s what I thought. My rational mind was battling my emotions. But reason couldn’t explain what had happened. My parents had been evicted from their home.
Around 6:30 PM, I arrive at the place my parents now call “home.” Two small rooms in a former hospital that is soon to be demolished. Crazy as I am, I’ve brought my camera, hanging around my neck. I want to help them, this is the only way I can, as a broke student: to document their story and share it with the world. Secretly, I also find comfort in it, it helps me process. That camera is my comfort zone.
I sit down in front of my crying mother and let the new “home” sink in. Boxes and photos are everywhere, photos of me. It touches me deeply; they care so much about me.
My parents are both creatives. My father is a professional saxophonist, and my mother hasn’t worked since a car accident. Growing up, I always heard, “You can’t build a future as a creative.” We didn’t manage either. Yet, I still dream of it. A future as a creative. A dream filled with fear. For years, I witnessed how things could go wrong, a life full of uncertainty and without a home. And yet, I’m doing it.
Our conversation continues. The visits become regular again. I see my parents happier and closer to each other as I ever saw in the past 23 years. So maybe it isn’t all that bad? Is there truly light at the end of a dark tunnel?