As a follow-up to her widely acclaimed book Ou Menya, Bieke Depoorter traveled to the United States, spending the night at the homes of perfect strangers, whose paths she crossed upon her wanderings. However, as we leaf through the book, it would hardly cross our minds that these people ever had Bieke's company. They seem utterly oblivious, about to call it a day, as if the photographer has managed to make herself unseen, leaving only her eye behind. In reality, she won their hearts by candidly admitting to her own vulnerability. In turn, they confided in her, and so we watch these fletting figures forever waving to us, signaling that they are still here, living their lives despite the strife and struggle.

We are immersed in obscurity. We find ourselves scarcely scratching the surface of these unpolished and unvarnished images. A surreal breeze drifts through the portraits and landscapes in this book despite their documentary nature, while the visual idiom inclines towards the cinematographic. Maybe these images were not meant to be fathomed; rather, the photographer is acutely aware of the inarticulate and the ineffable, melting away into thin air ever so easily. We watch how everything puzzles into place within the frame of the picture, and how once upon a time the light caressed a surface. Faraway, so close.