On the creation of rituals | On self destructing

On the creation of rituals

Every time I am back home, confined, I go back to shooting our kitchen window.

There’s nothing special about this window, but every time I am home it’s like the window is calling me.

I shot it at dusk, at dawn, at every hour in between.
I shot it when it was sunny, when it was raining, when the leaves were falling, the flowers were blooming…

Maybe it is the promise of getting out soon, or the promise that I’ll be able to feel again.

But for now I build a ritual: sit, look out, and shoot.
Sit, look out, and shoot
Sit, look out, and shoot
Sit, look out, and shoot
Sit, look out, and shoot

And all that remains is my window frame.



On self-destructing.

I stood looking at the moon, looking at what is deemed most beautiful, thinking of how it can suddenly cease to be.

I stood there looking at it, but beauty will be no more.

I find myself drifting every day to live in my memories, memories of happier times, memories of a moment where life was just like the moon, beautiful, there…

I remember my life in fragments, in pieces in lunary cycles.

I remember it in feelings.

What if I erased the moon?
Can I erase what the past 4 months have done to me?

I haven’t been ok for 4 months.
So how are you feeling today?

Poem was written and photos shot by Laetita Hakim (𝘗𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 | 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 | 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳)