ALONE IN THE CARIBBEAN

Description

From the first moment that I arrived alone in America one thing was very clear to me: that all those experiences would not be only in my memories. I did not know when or how I was going to share them, but I was convinced that they would not be a simple collection of different stories that the grandfather tells his grandchildren to entertain them.

The stories that I share are not only outlined by my memories, but also by the notes that I used to write down in any brochure that I found and in the photographs that I took with my one-kilo camera and that I used to develop every time that we reached a reliable port. Despite being called “the old man” during the post-Franco period, I found it incredible to be able to explain everything I had seen through images. Life was giving me this opportunity and I was really enjoying it. However, every time that I pressed the button to take a photo, my mind was connected to my family through an invisible thread. Not only did I want the photo to be limited to being, that is, simply ink printed on paper, but I also wanted the ink to be printed in the minds of the people who I loved and missed the most.