For my entire childhood I've grown up with the most loving, connected, family bond one can ever imagine; where everything has always felt so secure and safe, a sanctuary where all the corrupt things the world generates can't touch you, or in other words, a safe embassy I've always seeked asylum in.

On the 17th of August 11:15 am I was diagnosed with clinical depression. My emotional reserves are completely empty. I find myself wanting to cry everyday and everything overwhelms me. The more depressed and lonely I get, the more I isolate myself from the outside world diminishing my motivation to reach out to people. Delivering this news to my family is still to this day, the coldest and cruelest moment I've ever shared with them.

I used to think life-changing news brought people closer together. Yet for some reason I found myself feeling more and more distant and isolated than ever before. It's so difficult now to decode the reality. When my family surrounds me, I feel this overwhelming sense of distance and disregard on their behalf. I hear the sound of the cracks forming between us and growing bigger every day, but it's so unclear to understand the cause of this breaking.

Is my family still there for me and I just can't see it anymore. Or are they trying to reach out to me and I'm choosing to run away.

All of this coincided with my last year of photographic studies and I decided to use my camera to explore this very new to me family dynamic. So, I started interfering with my history; I cropped out family photos, covered aspects of my home and became the perpetrator of fading certain memories.
My camera brought me closer to my family roots. I scrambled through our lines to reconnect with the way things used to be. But I'm ultimately using this body of work as a way to communicate with my family.