12 July 2006, it was the first time I understand that there is such a thing as war.
I am from the South, South of Lebanon.
At that time, we were in Beirut and we had to disperse. Of course we could not stay in the South, especially not in our village; One whose houses were bombarded and badly shelled.
The first day we had to flee to a nearby shelter and the day after to another one, the phone lines were constantly disconnecting due to the shelling. No one knew if their houses were still intact or not, or if they had lost anyone or not. There wasn’t really a way to know, not many people had stayed in the village.
The war ended on the 14th of August 2006, we have had no news about the village for the whole period of 31 days. I remember we returned to the village not knowing if our house was still in place, Of course here was this fear of going and not finding it. We went and found it still standing but as we entered the doors were all open, we thought it would be from the pressure of the rockets or the resonance of the explosions.
I was only 9, I do not remember all the details but I remember that we found objects at home that belonged to an unknown visitor who had left his items. Items like a piece of paper, a belt, and bullets in a jewelry bag. The objects stayed at our place, we kept them.
12 years later I decided that I had to photograph these objects.
After such a long period I felt like these objects belong to a part of a story that I had undergone or to some person out there who I have no idea whether he is alive or dead. I really do not know what made me hold onto these objects. Regardless of the fact that I didn’t lose anyone close during the war, and that our house "survived", I felt like there was still some connection I had to the war, in a way that I could only decipher 12 years later.