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As a vague trace of western comfort, the old fan was hardly moving the hot air inside my room, in Madagascar. Outside, despite the heat and arid weather the baobab trees-with their strength presence were like heroes of resistance, points in which our sight could find a place to rest.
It’s not unusual that in such cases you understand and recall to the memory, your cultural heritage as a real manifestation. With a playful attitude of mixing cultures, staring at those huge, powerful, ancient trees, I was saying to myself – look at Aeneas! There stands, Achilles and Patroclus! Here in Madagascar, the baobab became heroes of the Greek legends, not only for their static form but also for their inner beauty. In the arid season these trees store quantities of water inside their trunk and water like golden manna, is hidden inside.
Around their sacred beauty, there were people, or animals, or very small houses, which I decided to leave inside the photographic frame. I recognized that the beauty I’m searching for is not something outside this world. I’m searching for beauty, an earthly one.

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